Heresy of Angels
by Courtanie
Summary: The line between miracles and evil is thin, and Kenny is right on that line. Locked away from sight, he breaks free for a moment and falls for the grace and geniality of a heretic. M for later chapter.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: I need to stop starting new stories and finish what I have XD;**_

_**This is based around 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' in a way similar that 'Olive Branch' is based off 'The Iliad'.**_

_**Inspiration came from a poster of Paris I have hanging in my bedroom and listening to the soundtrack from the Disney version =w=**_

_**(That and I love the book, mmm.) Anyways, *fairly* short story with my own twists, enjoy! :D**_

_**Annnddd I'm making up a European town, along with its church and such. I don't want to use Paris for I know no French words XD; Prepare for randomoscity~**_

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It was a phenomenon unheard of in the small town of Rousborough, the happening of a miracle was too far and in-between for anyone, even the elders with their countless stories, to recall. The town relied in the teachings of the church to supply them with the stories of the miracles, never to experience them for themselves. Their job was to hope that such an event could befall their small town and make the presence of their god known.

Until that is, it actually happened.

People gathered around the cobblestone street, watching as a boy of only four who laid mangled and dead from the weight of a horse and wagon suddenly re-grew his torn skin, his glazed blue eyes returning to light as he sat up, his eyes searching the crowds for his mother and father. They stood among the mass of people, staring at their son with widened eyes. He broke into a bright smile and ran towards them with his arms outstretched. They, however, did not rejoice as one would expect. They backed away from him along with the other townspeople, watching him carefully and evading his open arms.

"Momma?" he'd asked with a cocked head. His mother stared at him, shaking her head softly.

"No, Kenneth," she'd said quietly. "Stay back..." she said as his father wrapped an arm around her waist and they stared at their son. He looked between all the people, laughing to himself at their bewildered faces.

"Momma, I'm hungry," he'd pouted, crossing his arms as the town bit their lips.

"_He's alive_," they whispered.

"_He's come from Hell itself!_"

"_He's an unholy demon!_"

Their conversations spread around the grouping as the little four year old blonde just smiled in the midst of it all, turning his head and watching each of them with innocent curiosity as to their topic.

"_She_ was impregnated by the devil!" A woman cried out, pointing at his mother accusingly. "She's brought the wrath of Satan on us all!"

His mother's face paled and she shook her head nauseatingly. "N-no!" she stammered.

"They both brought our town into a curse!" Another man shouted angrily. His father held his wife tighter as they were glared at by their neighbors.

"I swear, we didn't know any of this!" his mother pled. Her arm was grabbed and she was ripped away from her husband. She cried out for him and they fought against the others as they were pushed down the street in separation.

"We must cleanse our city! No means of the devil may prosper here!" A headstrong woman yelled. An agreeing chant followed as the man and woman were dragged down the streets and out of the young boy's sight.

"Momma?" he stared before starting to run after them. "Dadd-AH!" he cried out as his arm was grabbed. He looked up to see the kindly old archdeacon staring at him with sad eyes. He kneeled down beside the boy and stroked his hair. "Mr. Deacon, Father...sir," he stumbled with his greeting. "They took Momma and Daddy!" he pointed down the street.

He nodded softly, "Yes, Kenny, they did. Do you know why?"

He shook his head and the man stared at him for a bit before grabbing him in his arms and pulling him up. "Kenny, you did something really special today," he said softly, looking back for any signs of the enraged townspeople before walking up towards their large church hovering over the city.

"I did?" he asked, clinging to his robes and watching for his parents to come back for him.

The man walked up the steps of the church and cupped Kenny's chin, pushing his face up to look into his. "You experienced resurrection, Kenneth. You've got the blessings of an angel about you."

"Where did they take Momma," he demanded, his eyes welling up with tears as he ignored the man's statement. "I want her back."

The old man's face got noticeably sadder and he kissed the boy's hair comfortingly. "She's not coming back, Kenny," he whispered. The boy's face dropped and the archdeacon held him closely. They turned their heads to the sound of some of the townspeople making their way back, hollering out Kenny's name through the streets. The man turned and pushed open the door of the cathedral, pulling Kenny in with him and slamming the large door shut, the sound echoing through the barren, stone and glass halls of the building.

Kenny clung to the man as his footsteps bounded along the halls as he slowly walked through. "We have to keep you safe," he told him.

"Momma and Daddy keep me safe," he insisted, turning to jump out of his arms and run out to get to them.

"They can't anymore," he said softly, kneeling down and placing Kenny down on the floor on his knees. Kenny stared up at him and the archdeacon placed a gentle hand atop his glowing blonde hair. "They'll be going home to their father," he explained softly.

"I want to go with them," he said, his eyes shining. "I...I want to go home, too!"

The man shook his head. "You must stay on Earth with us," he stated quietly. "The world is a very dark place, Kenneth as your dear parents are learning as we speak." The boy started tearing up again and the man pet his head some more. "We need angels to be our light. But it's our job to protect them."

"I want Momma," he said, pulling away from the man and crying. "I...I don't wanna be here."

"You have to be," he whispered. "Your mother can't care for you anymore." Kenny cried harder and the gentleman grabbed him and held him as he sobbed into his clean, white robes. "There there," he said, stroking his head softly. "We'll keep you here in the church."

Kenny pulled back and sniffed, looking up at him, "M-Momma told me that...that church is for good people," he stuttered.

"It's for everyone," he explained, standing and holding out his hand. Kenny sniffled, grasping his hand back and the man smiled on him, starting to lead him through the dark building with glowing candles guiding their way. He led him to the main room, lit in an explosion of color from the sun peeking through the stained-glass window above a large wooden cross. He pointed to a few people kneeling on the pews and Kenny watched them curiously.

"They're praying," he observed.

"Yes, they are," he nodded.

"Momma made us do that every night before supper," he said, looking at the man. "But they're asking for things," he pointed at a few of them huddled in a group. Murmurings of prayers unanswered wafted around the spacious room and Kenny looked at them in annoyance. The old man looked down at him and laughed softly.

"Some have little to their names, so they pray for more in exchange for their dedication to our Lord," the man explained.

"Momma said no one should ask for anything unless they need it," Kenny stated firmly. "Daddy told me not to ask for things because it won't happen by praying. We just had to be thankful for what we had and not boss God around."

The archdeacon stared at him before chuckling, leading him away from the prayer room and towards a flight of stairs in the back corner of the cathedral. "Your parents were very wise, Kenneth," he said as he helped him clamber up the steps. "But we don't just pray to God."

"We don't?" he said in astonishment as he climbed.

"No, we pray to God, to Mary, to Jesus, our Lord and Savior. We pray to the angels as well, who often come onto Earth and guide us along through our days, even if we can't see them."

"But they're sent by God," he stated in confusion.

"Right."

"So...we're praying to God," he blinked. The man laughed again, pulling him up the top step and looking around with him at the bells about them. Kenny stared with his mouth agape up at the giant monstrous instruments hovering above him and encasing him with dark shadows. The man took a deep breath, sighing contentedly.

"Angels are of their own spirit," he said, looking down at the wonderment-infused boy. "They go on God's word, and yet can use their own methods of delivering messages to the people that they came to help. It's our job to love them and protect them in order to show God that we care for all his children. Human or otherwise."

The blonde looked at him and his face contorted in confusion before the man continued, "You can live up here, Kenneth. Would you like that?"

"It's...so big," he gaped, staring still at the low-lying beams stretching across the ceiling. The sunlight poked through the bars and shone down in rays upon the rustic-wooden flooring.

"And it's yours," the man continued.

"How come?" he asked him. "What about home?"

A moment of silence passed before the man patted his head and took a deep breath. "This is your home now," he said in the low-lights of the room. Kenny looked down at the ground with slightly furrowed brows before the old man stepped away from him. "I'll get you some pillows and a blanket for tonight. Tomorrow I'll find some toys for you," he said before turning to walk away.

"Wait!" Kenny said as he stepped onto the first step.

He turned back, "Yes, Kenneth?"

Kenny bit his lip. "How...how long do I have to stay here?"

They stared at each other for a moment before the old man smiled. "Angels come to Earth with a purpose," he stated. "When it's your turn to fulfill yours, everything will fall into light."

He smiled at him kindly once more before turning and heading down the stairs. Kenny stood in the midst of the giant bells, hearing the door shut and the lock outside slowly sliding into place. He shook where he stood before his legs gave out and he fell back onto the floor, pulling his knees into his chest and burying his face into his ragged clothes. He sniffled a few times, looking up with glassy eyes to see the rays of sunlight slowly turning the room into a deep orange hue around the instruments. He closed his eyes, laying down on the floor and curling into himself once again, listening to the sound of birds chirping outside the scaffolding of the old cathedral. Tears slowly ran down his face before he drifted off to visions of his parents fading away before his very eyes into the bright light of his own recluse.

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_**A/N: Zee Archdeacon, he gets no identity, for I am a lazy girl. LAZY I SAY!**_

_**Anyways, yay! Next chapter fast-forwards a good deal, but now you know why Kenny's gonna be in the tower :3c**_

_**Mmmmmmmm I'm so excited about this story, you don't even know =w=**_

_**Mkays, thanks for R&Ring! :D**_

_**PS: Courtanie harbors no religious knowledge, so she's kinda bs-ing this whole thing. Sorry bout that. 9_9;**_


	2. Upon God's Balcony

_**A/N: Fast forward :D**_

_**Yay, enjoy :)**_

_**(SORRY FOR THE WAIT ;A;)**_

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He stared outside at the clear skies, watching the sun as it rose from the East and fell over the array of buildings set along the small town. He cocked his head curiously, waiting for the sound of the baker's call as he pulled out fresh loaves of bread and began selling them in front of his shop as he always tended to do. He waited for the old woman he'd come to dub as Millie to step out of her home and take the baker up on his offer. He'd bow is hat to him like he always had and they'd go about their day,

The rest of the town was a set routine, each person always looking towards the same destination as they went about their lives. He was similar in that sense.

He hated that his was so unlike all the others.

A boy just shy of twenty years, sitting alone in a dank tower, people-watching and making his own stories up about the subjects that he observed. He watched them as they ran through the streets endlessly in an array of swarms. He watched as they came, staring up at the mighty cathedral that he'd come to call home and hope that maybe, just maybe, they were looking back at him and talking to him. It was the only source of solace he found as he sat in that room all by his lonesome. His imagination had become erratic by the time he was seven, his imaginary friends became who he was, the people he depended the most on.

The archdeacon that had taken him in was older and weary with the coming and going of wars and years. His proud face had grown far more wrinkled, his posture more withered and frail. He became unable to climb the steps to get to Kenny's room anymore, so he'd limited his visitations to only when someone could assist him.

Anymore, his visitor was one of a much fouler disposition. The job had gone over to Eric Cartman, who was studying under the archdeacon himself in order to obtain a place of power over the church. Kenny and he did not fare well together, often arguing but always resulting in Cartman walking out of the room, victorious, whilst Kenny sat alone in his room and thought the day away.

Time spent in the dark had not dispersed the boy's appearance in any fashion. His eyes still shone that bright, curiosity-laced blue under thick locks of golden hair. Cartman often taunted him on the way he appeared, saying that he must be an angel because of his looks. Kenny disdained this above anything that he experienced among the massive bells he now called his friends.

He never considered himself to be an angel. Angels were beautiful and sent for purposes that they already knew. Kenny was a boy trapped in the dark, unaware of his own appearance or that of others aside from the few visitors he received. The world was a faceless mistress to him; He found it impossible to have any sort of mission when he knew not of anything outside his own walls.

As he sat and watched people from his tower, he heard a noise behind him and sighed, turning to find the large glutton, Cartman, coming up from the stairwell.

"Breakfast," he said gruffly.

"Mm," Kenny mused.

"Hey, I don't have to give you anything," he rolled his eyes before stepping over to him and throwing a bowl of porridge into his lap. Kenny caught it abruptly, receiving a few splashes on his orange cloth tunic and frowning at them. Cartman snickered and the blonde rolled his eyes, raising the spoon and taking a small bite, sliding the cereal around in his mouth in silence.

"What a beautiful day," Cartman said, stretching and walking towards the crevice where Kenny sat to watch the world. "The birds are just singing to everyone today," he smiled down on him. "They call out, '_come play! Come play with us_!'" He paused, looking at the glaring blonde before smirking a bit. "It's just a shame that you can't oblige them, Kenneth."

"Aren't you supposed to be studying to be a decent man?" Kenny mumbled, poking his cereal with the poorly crafted spoon aimlessly. Cartman scoffed, moving out to the balcony of Kenny's home and staring down on the people.

"Come here, Kenneh," he stated gruffly.

Kenny sighed, holding his breakfast and getting to his feet, walking to stand beside the large man. "What?"

A moment of silence passed between them before Cartman chuckled, "Why do you want to be like them, Kenneh?"

The blonde blinked before shrugging a bit. "They get to live, I guess," he muttered, taking another bite of his porridge.

"Hm," he nodded a bit. "So you may think..." he cocked his head. "But look at them," he gestured. "They run around as though nothing in the world outside of their own is important enough to stand still for."

"You can relate," Kenny muttered under his breath.

Cartman glared for a brief beat before chuckling, "No, Kenneh, I have only the interests of the people in my heart."

"Uh huh."

"The old man is getting ready to pass onto his Father," Cartman stated, looking up at the clouds before back down to the blonde. "I'm going to take over what he's left for us," he gestures to the city. "Poor, misshapen people. Common derelicts that roam our streets. Kenny, this is not a world you want to be part of."

Kenny took in what he said before sighing. "I'd rather be a derelict than a prisoner," he said sadly, watching a group of children playing on the street. "At least...at least they're misshapen with each other..."

"Kenneh, don't speak as such," Cartman snapped. "You are here under the old man's protection. You should feel honored that a wretch like yourself has the chance to see the church at all, let alone live in it."

"If I am a wretch..." Kenny started, looking at him, "Then I don't belong here. If I am this supposed 'angel' then I don't belong," he frowned. "No other angel has been kept locked away in a room their entire life."

Cartman looked at him for a moment before chuckling, "And you don't see all that many of them walking the streets either, now do you?" Kenny's face dropped and he looked at the bowl in his hands sadly. "I do pity you, Kenneh," Cartman spoke again. The blonde looked back at him with sad blue eyes.

"You do?"

"Of course. I would be depressed as well should I be kept from the people I'm supposedly '_protecting_'," Cartman sneered before looking back on the people. "They've no idea of you even existing," he said lowly. "They remember you, your parents. But they believed you were killed in the crossfire as they were all those many many...many years ago, hm?" he smiled over at him. Kenny stared back blankly before Cartman grabbed the bowl from his hands and observed it. He let a large dollop of porridge plop off the spoon back into the bowl as he watched, laughing lowly. "So, so lifeless," he said. "Supposedly something of nourishment..." he looked back at him once again. "But what is nourishment to he who never basks in the sun?" He asked. "What is it about you that keeps the archdeacon from tossing you out in the street and letting the mob have its way with you?"

Kenny stared back, shaking his head slowly, "He believes me to be an angel," he whispered miserably.

"Hm," he nodded sharply before tossing the bowl back at him. Kenny fumbled with it before it fell into him, coating him in the thick mass of cereal. He dropped the bowl to the cement under their feet, staring at the mess before Cartman broke into laughter. "Angels have always been considered the pinnacle of grace and everlasting love and innocence," he smirked. "And yet here you are. Alone and unloved, betrayed and forgotten. As I said," he stated, cupping Kenny's chin and pulling his head back up towards his. "I pity you." He threw his face back and began walking away. "I'll bring you dinner tonight, Kenneh. Be sure to read today because the old man won't get off my back about you." He finished in a huff, descending the stairs to the main hall below Kenny's room.

Kenny stared after him before looking back at the mess on his shirt and sighing. He tore the tunic off, throwing it back into his room. Someone would clean it for him eventually...He turned, leaning over the gable of the church and people-watching once more.

Angels didn't belong where he was. It was their job to be with the people, to share their message with the world...

If only he knew just what his message was.

He leaned his chin on his arms, watching the group of kids running around each other. They pushed and shoved each other, yelling out with bouts of laughter as they continued their chase of one another. He saw one little girl twirling around the others in a bright pink skirt, plainly visible to his line of sight where he hovered. She seemed to stop suddenly, shooting her face up towards the blonde. His heart leapt for a moment of joy before she quickly went back to as she was doing, forgetting about the boy in the clouds, of the angel in waiting.

He hated this. He hated being who he was.

He'd still no idea of why he was considered to be an angel to the archdeacon's eyes. The man had told him that when he was four, he'd done something great. But it was nothing more, nothing less. No details, no story. No nothing.

A boy of only four. What could one do that seemed so angelic-like? What could a toddler possibly do to place themselves in the rankings of God?

He shut his eyes and rubbed his temple in frustration. These thoughts plagued him nonstop. He was never given enough of a distraction to keep him from remembering that once, he did have a family. They weren't the happiest of people, but at least they had each other when it came right down to it.

Now what could he look at for comfort?

The man who'd been so kind, but had dwindled from him year by year? The boy who threw food at him and taunted him for his so-called position among everyone? The people who'd not seen his face for fifteen years? Or what of the one that he was expected to look for when he found himself in this kind of mindset? Where was God? Why was He not providing 'His angel' with the guidance and answers he so desperately needed?

Kenny bit his lip and shook his head at himself. It didn't matter. He was stuck. He was just to watch these people day by day and hope that one day, he could join them in life, waiting to meet their Father as opposed to being reminded of Him constantly.

He gritted his teeth in anxiety as he watched the children running back past the church, mere blurs to his vision.

He would find this day. He would make it his own.

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**_A/N: Thanks for R&Ring because I have nothing else to say T_T_**

**_Sorry for the waits and all that. I'm busy and such...and lazy ._._**


	3. The Girl and the Tangerine River

_**A/N: /sob. I have so many stories to work on right now. This is the only one I can find my notes for though ;_;**_

_**Ah well. Let's kick it :B **_

_**Enjoy~**_

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He headed through the two stone pillars that stood on the very outskirts of the town, the one on the right adorned with a crooked and rotted wooden sign proclaiming the city's name. He smiled warmly a bit before turning his attention back to the dirt path as he walked. He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly.

Fresh air. How he missed it so. So much more serene compared to the stale scent of blood that he had forced himself to grow accustomed to. The stagnant aroma of sweating soldiers and fresh corpses did little to make a man feel at home. But walking back through that old sign, heading up to where the dirt turned to cobblestone, he couldn't help but smile a bit wider.

Home. Home at last.

The war had grown bitter and had come to a standstill. He had left to help fight with one of this town's neighbors. He as always aching to do some kind of battle, wrought with the ideas of proclaiming his heroism to the world as the war came down to a one-man victory.

Such did not happen exactly, but he had made a name for himself, he had put his small town here on the map.

He couldn't wait to tell everyone.

He started passing past the buildings, looking at them for the first time in nearly three years. It was pure nostalgia washing over him in droves, watching the blacksmith toiling in his shop. He watched him beat down a sword into his anvil before the man looked up.

"Why Stanley," he grinned, getting to his feet and putting the burning metal down. He held out his hand as he walked over to him. They clasped grips tightly and shook a bit. "My god, you lived," he shook his head softly. "We all figured you were dead, Kid."

"Heh, sorry I didn't write. I didn't have anyone to really write to...," he drifted off sadly. A beat of silence passed before he felt hands on his shoulders.

He looked up to see the man smiling at him softly. "They would have been proud," he said softly.

He smiled back and nodded, "Thank you."

Another moment passed before the man started up again, "Are you back permanently or are you only passing through?"

"Not sure yet," he shrugged. "I left the war. Couldn't handle directing troops anymore. I may stay here but then again I'm not so sure that I want to."

"Understandable," he chuckled. He looked back towards his work and sighed, patting his shoulders again. "Well, I need to get back to work. Someone's gotta give you soldier boys your weapons," he winked.

"Thanks, Sir," he nodded again, stepping back and saluting him before turning and heading back onto the street, followed by the sound of the man's hammer slamming down atop his anvil.

He stumbled as a group of children ran past him, laughing hysterically as they chased each other through the town. He watched after them with a large smile and shook his head amusedly. He watched after them, raising his brow as he saw them come to a stop and stare at something. He came up behind them, following their line of sight up to a small group of people.

He cocked his head as the sound of jingling bells and a soft sitar filled the air. He looked to see an older man playing the stringed instrument, bobbing his torso along with the music, his eyes locked on the young woman playing a tambourine. He black hair swayed along her back as she moved her hips to the music. Stan scanned over them, shaking his head with a small smile before his eyes widened as another figure came into the picture.

A smaller boy, a teenager that couldn't be much younger than Stan himself came out from between the both of them, tossing a hat onto the ground in front of their audience. He smiled at them all, he bowed slightly as the children burst into applause. "Nice to see you again, kids," He winked at them under his striking carmine hair.

"Kyle, tell a story!" a small girl called out.

Stan watched as he laughed softly. "And which one would you like to hear, young maiden?"

"The girl and the river!" A boy called out.

"Hm," he stroked his chin and looked up, perching up on his toes. "Oh dear. I need help remembering just how it goes...," he looked around at his audience. "You!" he called out, pointing to a girl his age with curly brown hair. "Can you be my demonstration?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"W-well...I-I guess so," she looked away and blushed, pushing her fingers together.

He smiled again, stepping over and gently grabbing her arm and pulling her over into the center beside himself. "What's your name?"

"R-Rebecca," she licked her lips nervously.

"Beautiful," he winked at her. "I just need you to stand here for me." She nodded as he backed away and looked out towards the people. "Ladies, gentlemen, and little versions of each," he smiled at the kids. "I'm going to tell you the tragic tale of the young lady of the river out west," he gestured out into the distance.

The man and woman around him started up a slow tune, everyone's eyes locked on the young boy. His bare feet slid over the cobblestone as he moved to the beat of the song. Stan crossed his arms, watching him curiously.

"Once upon a time," he started in a low voice, "long long ago before anyone can remember, there lived a young girl. The daughter of a seamstress and a farmer if one remembers correctly," he gestured over to Rebecca. "She was very, very lovely," he said grasping her hand and winking at her once again. She blushed and looked away, giggling nervously. Stan raised his brow amusedly as Kyle chuckled and moved away from her once again.

"This girl loved the night sky," he gestured up above them all, swooping his arm up over his head. "She danced with the stars as they moved over her, falling under their spell time and again," he swayed around to the beat of the old man and woman's tune. He grasped Rebecca's hand once again, persuading her to dance with him. She shakily fell into his steps, twirling as he held her arm up. He smirked, sneakily kicking her foot softly and letting her fall into his arms. She gasped, staring up at him and swallowing heavily.

"She loved to dance," he stated, looking down on her with glowing green eyes. "The stars were her partners, the moon their leader as it paraded through the sky." He slowly set her back up onto her feet, holding her hands and leading her step by step to the tune. "Night after night, she would dance her way down to the river, watching herself in the water as she twirled," he spun with Rebecca, the green scarf in his hair swaying over his back gracefully.

"But one night," he said, coming to a stop, "Things were different," he said, stepping away from the girl. Stan and the other onlookers watched him intently as he slowly moved, stepping on his toes in gentle motions. He closed his eyes, swaying around gently. "One night," he continued, coming to a stop in front of them and looking down at the children, "The moon had changed," he said in a whisper. "The time of the orange moon had come."

"And the girl fell in love!" one of the kids shouted in a giggle.

Kyle nodded, chuckling with them. "She couldn't help but stare at it," he swung his arm up once again. "It was so beautiful, so unique," he placed his hands over his heart. "It took her very breath away," he stepped up to Rebecca. "The way that it fell over her face with that gentle orange glow," he cooed, running his fingers up the side of her cheek.

She blushed harder and giggled, "O-oh dear."

He smiled, "She danced down to the river," he lead her step by step once again. "She came up to it, and was met with nothing but a river of orange!" he cried out, ripping off the orange scarf tied around his waist and streaming it in front of the audience. Stan watched the way that he made it ebb just as a river would and found himself in awe with the rest of the listeners.

"The poor maiden wanted it more than she could bear," Kyle continued with pity in his voice. "She wanted to taste that sweet tangerine water, to feel the warmth that its color gave," he lowered his voice.

"Then what?" A child shouted through her giggles.

"Then she twirled right into that river!" he called out, flinging his scarf up and wrapping it around Rebecca's head. She yelped softly at the sudden move and he chuckled, leaning in and whispering something to her before looking back at the people. She found herself a set of shiny pebbles as she sunk into the water," he said. He started swaying Rebecca under the scarf, "more stars is what she thought. And through the surface, she could see the orange moon watching over her, leading her still. And before she knew it, in the blink of an eye, she herself was one of those stars in the bright sky, twirling through the night!" he cried out, pulling the scarf over Rebecca quickly. As he ripped it back up, the brown-haired girl was nowhere to be seen.

The adults onlooking stared in shock as the children clapped and screamed excitedly. The elders finally took to laughing and clapping as the young man bounced back from them with a small bow. An array of golden coins flew towards the hat he'd set out and the three performers looked at each other with smiles as Kyle tied his scarf back around his waist.

Stan clapped loudly, unable to take his eyes off the young redhead before he was suddenly ripped back from the crowd. "Enjoying the show, soldier Marsh?" the voice said lowly.

He looked down to find Eric Cartman staring up at him darkly. "Hey there, Cartman," he smirked, taking his arm back. "I see you're still in training."

"It never ends," he stated before pulling him from the crowd. Stan looked back, seeing Kyle watching him in return with a slightly cynical stare. Stan turned back to Cartman who pulled him to the side of the street, out of earshot of the patrons.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" He repeated. "What's wrong! Those...gypsies are what's wrong!" he said through gritted teeth. "You do realize that they're heretics to your god, correct?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, you've always said that," he rolled his eyes.

"That one there," he pointed over to them. "The one with the red hair? He's one of their little leaders," he hissed.

"Really?" he raised his brow in surprise. "He doesn't seem much younger than us."

"Coming from the man who led an army," Cartman raised his brow.

He laughed, "Good point."

"Look," he stated, "I cannot stand those vermin gypsies any longer. But especially that one. He's so cocky and arrogant towards myself and the church."

"Sure it's not just you?" Stan smirked.

"He practices witchcraft!" he yelled at him. "He parades through the streets 'entertaining' the residents. He terrifies them with trickery and steals their money."

"Looks to me like he just earned his money," Stan shrugged. "He's a storyteller, so what?"

"Stanley, listen to me," he frowned. "That boy will destroy this town if I don't have him locked away and executed sometime soon."

"Good luck with that," another voice popped in. They looked to find Kyle staring at them amusedly. "Tell me," he walked over with a grin towards Cartman, "how's little ol' me supposed to 'destroy' an entire town? Hm?"

"You little witch," he glared. "By denouncing the church with your evil ways, that's how!"

"Witch?" he cocked his head. "No no no," he laughed, "Simple magic yes. Witchcraft is something used for evil."

"Which you are!"

"Coming from the man standing in a public lot yelling about killing people who haven't even done anything," the boy contradicted. "Perhaps you need a reality check on what is evil and what is not."

"I know for a fact that you are," he sneered. He looked to Stanley, "This little nuisance escapes guards like they're mere children playing tag or something of the sort!"

"And I will continue to do so until your guards finally have enough sense to find that I'm really not that hard to catch. But I suppose that I'll always be able to outsmart children like them."

"He's insulting you in that, too, Marsh."

"I'm not your guard," he scoffed.

Kyle smirked at him. "Soldier back from the wars I'm supposing?"

"That I am," he nodded with a smile back.

"Well in all good tastes, Sir, I'm not too fond of you soldier-types either. Attacking people in a mob does nothing more than create more problems."

"Hey now," he frowned.

"But you do as you wish," Kyle smiled at him. "We all work with the gifts this man's god gave to us," he gestured to Cartman. "Whether it be combative strength, his loud domineering mouth, or my own magics," he smirked.

"Your witchcraft is not of any thing that my god would bestow upon you, you devil!" Cartman shouted at him.

"See? He utilizes his gift," Kyle grinned. Stan stifled a laugh as Cartman glared at him.

"Marsh, you need a job?"

"Uh...yes I suppose?" he blinked at him.

"Wonderful. You're now the head of my guards."

"What."

"Now your first act of duty is to take that manipulative rat prisoner!" he pointed to the redhead.

Stan looked from him to Kyle, "Um..."

"Remember that your first duty is to the church," he hissed. "It's part of your code!"

Stan winced and looked at Kyle with a small shrug. "He's right," he said reaching out to grab Kyle, "By order of the church, I place you under-"

Kyle grabbed his hand and glared at him. "Such a soldier boy," he shook his head. "Learn the art of free-will, life becomes a bit more bearable," he said before pushing Stan back and bounding away from them. He took a few steps before taking his scarf off and draping it over himself before vanishing along with it into a crowd.

"Go after him!" Cartman demanded.

"And do what?" Stan protested. "I can't do anything to harm him in the street and you know it."

Cartman let out a frustrated growl, ripping up at his dark brown hair. "I want him captured!"

"Why just him?" Stan raised his brow. "There's tons of other gypsies to go after."

"As I said, he's a leader," Cartman hissed. "We bring him out to burn at the stake and their entire community will fall apart. It's a simple logic, Marsh." Stan set his lips in silence and Cartman sighed. "I'm sure you're weary from your travels."

"Yes and coming home to this kind of job offering isn't helping matters any."

"We have a home and food for you should you take the offer," Cartman stated. "It has to be easier than commanding troops out on the battlefield."

"From what you've been telling me, this town_ is_ a battlefield," he retorted.

Cartman nodded, starting to lead him off and away. "It is," he agreed. "We have a duty to protect these people from the gypsies, from people who claim our god is false."

"But the gypsy just told us that he thinks everyone utilizes our god's gifts," he blinked.

"His perception of God and the real one are two entirely different things," he stated. "He thinks that God protects people like him. That he's exempt from punishment for the kind of things he does. He's wrong," he scoffed. "People like him are made to be made examples of; to instill the fear of our god and sinful ways into good, kind people. And that's going to be your job, Stanley. Protecting the people. Think you can handle it?" he looked up at him.

"Yeah," he nodded uncertainly. "Protect people."

"Excellent," Cartman smiled. "Then come with me, we'll get you fed and a nice warm home to begin your new life in."

Stan followed him silently, unable to avoid his eyes flickering back, seeing a boy draped in orange watching them as they walked away.

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_**A/N: Gypsies = Hippies. Aww yeah B)**_

_**And if you're wondering where Rebecca ended up going. Um. She...went to Medieval England. Changed her name to Guinevere...CAUSE SHE'S A SLUT.**_

_**Cookies for you if you know that reference without google :)**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring!**_


	4. The Town Abuzz

_**A/N: You people fail at mythology. Just thought you should know.**_

_**Alrighty, enjoy :3**_

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A buzz of excitement and anticipation was skyrocketing around the small town of Rousborough. The people were practically drenched in the feeling as the children all watched the adults excitedly. Group leaders were hurrying about, trying to gather people together and to make a plan of action. The baker was up to his nose in doughs and pastries, the seamstress and tailor working fervishly on secret projects as the days wore on. The sounds of laughter and happiness echoed throughout the cobblestone streets well into the night as the days passed. The playful tunes being strung out by the gypsies and the sounds of their coins of payment clattering against the ground were ably danced to hour upon hour.

Kenny didn't know what was going on, but he was perhaps the most excited person dwelling within the small town.

He watched with his bird's eye view from his tower, staring at every noticeable character that rushed past his view. He watched young lovers chasing each other in laughter down the street. He gazed down at women twirling around in vibrantly colored skirts and teasing one another loudly. He could see the gypsies as they played around with the townfolk, the way that they danced and moved around with such grace.

As he was watching a group of the misfits one day, his eyes half-lidded from the spouts of his imagination, he noticed something peculiar: A mess of bright orange dancing around on the top of a young boy in the streets below.

"What a strange hat," he murmured to himself, watching as the orange twirled around in a circular pattern. He stared as the people around the boy started clapping and couldn't help but join in himself. The atmosphere of the town was almost overwhelming for him. He'd never seen it in such a happy uproar in all his years of people-watching.

He stopped clapping for the show he'd not even witnessed of the gypsy, leaning his elbow down on the terrace and placing his chin into his palm, smiling dreamily. "I wonder what's going on," he mumbled, his eye catching a bird as it landed near him on one of the stone figurines of the church. "What do you think?" he asked it. It looked away, breathing quickly and cocking its head at the sound of other birds up in the air. He rolled his eyes. "You don't care, do you?" he asked tiredly. "After all, you can come and go as you please. You can go wait in the street and listen to people talking about it if you really wanted to."

The bird continued to ignore him and he pouted. "You know, it's common courtesy for a guest to speak with the person's whose home their perched upon," he lectured. "The least you could do is look-," he paused as it spread its wings and swooped down towards the ground. "At...me," he blinked after it before his shoulders dropped. He sighed and leaned his face further into his palm. Even the birds had better things to do with their time than look at him.

The sound of laughter caught his attention again and he looked down, watching the gypsies dancing around. The orange boy led the children around in a circle, ensuing bouts of giggles from the lot of them. Kenny smiled. He wished he could be down there, laughing with them, perhaps even dancing with them. He could ask a pretty lady to twirl with him in the streets. Cartman always told him about the maidens of the town, just to make the blonde more antsy about being cooped up where he was. They were all apparently so fine and unique, so light on their feet they walked on air.

Much like angels.

Ken rolled his eyes as the word crossed his mind but quickly shook it away as he heard a noise from behind him.

"Ken? Don't you have better things to do than stand there and stare all day?"

He scoffed, turning and finding the speaker as he stared at him with a plate in his hand. "No, Craig, not really," he stated, leaning up off the stones and heading over towards him. "What else can I do in my spare time but stare at people?"

"You're supposed to read your scriptures and have them memorized for the old man," he said, setting the food down on an overturned crate that had become Kenny's table.

"Scriptures," he snorted. "Like those things will ever do me any good as I rot up here for the rest of my days."

Craig stared at him for a moment before shrugging, "To be honest, I don't care what you do. I'm just following his orders and at least asking what you're doing. I don't have to make you do anything so I won't."

"Well thanks for your kind generosity," he rolled his eyes. He looked down at the food on the crate. "Thanks," he said again, turning back towards his terrace.

"Uh, aren't you going to eat?" Craig asked impatiently. "I brought you your food, the least you can do is make use of it."

He waved him away, "I will I will," he said, looking back down on the town. "I'm busy right now."

Craig sighed loudly, heading over to stand by him. "And just what are you busy with other than stalking the people?"

"I am not stalking them," he emphasized. "I'm carefully observing them from where I stand."

"That's so much better," he smirked at him, pushing his smooth black hair out of his eyes.

They watched the folk dancing around and scurrying about before Kenny broke the silence, "What's going on down there?"

"They're preparing," Craig said simply, smoothing out his apprentice's robe.

"For what?" The blue-eyed boy asked curiously.

"They're having a festival tomorrow," he stated. "In honor of the general who just got back home from the wars. They're celebrating the idea of peace and song."

"Really? I thought Cartman said that festivals were sinful or something."

"Cartman says anything that isn't him is sinful," Craig rolled his eyes. "The archdeacon gave his blessing. Said he wanted to see this town entranced in the feeling of love and prosperity just one more time before he goes to his Father."

Kenny frowned a bit at this thought before sighing. "So...it's basically just a celebration?"

"Of sorts," he nodded. "There's going to be singing and dancing and I've heard that the gypsies are planning out a play for the town."

"Who's watching over it?"

"Cartman of course," he shook his head. "You know how he takes command over anything that he can get his fat hands on."

Kenny snickered. "What about you? You have the same position as Cartman in the church. Why didn't you volunteer to watch over it?"

"Eh," he shrugged. "I'll be there but I'd rather just be there enjoying the show, not on constant watch for anything that may or may not seem sinful. 'Sides, if he messes up, it's all on his head, not on mine," he smiled.

Kenny's lips fell in disappointment slightly. "You're...you're gonna be there?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss the only eventful thing to happen in this town for over twenty years for my life."

The blonde sighed, leaning his chin down on the stone and mindlessly watching people once again. "You're so lucky," he mumbled. "The most exciting thing to happen to me in about that long was the time I found a rat in the bell."

"Jacques?" he raised an amused brow.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Then Cartman turned him into an entrée just to get under my skin," he scowled.

Craig patted his shoulder lightly. "Well...then go tomorrow."

Kenny shot his head over to him. "What?"

"Go," he shrugged. "Ask Cartman if you can just put on a disguise and go out for the afternoon. He's your caretaker so it'll have to pass through him, but I don't really see why you can't. Everyone's gonna be in weird costumes anyway. You coming down all dressed up won't be too much of a distraction."

"You...you think so?" Kenny asked hopefully before his heart lurched. "Wait. Wait a minute, that won't happen."

"Why not?"

He sighed, brushing some of his golden hair back. "It's Cartman. Cartman loves the fact that he can keep me under his lock and chain. He's not going to just change his mind and let me out. Besides, the old man won't exactly approve of it either."

"You really think so? The old man loves you a lot, Ken."

"He loves me as an angel," he drawled out. "He thinks that I'm too precious or something to just go running in the streets. He doesn't want to take the chance of the villagers finding out who I am and trying to hurt me or the church as a whole."

"You're an angel, just fly away," Craig smirked.

"Yeah, let me just pop the wings right out of my back and I'll get right on that one," he remarked sarcastically. He sighed again and shook his head. "I really want to go," he said softly. "I haven't interacted with anyone but you three for so long. I want to be with the other people again. I've spent so long watching them from up here, ya know? I feel like I know them already but they have no idea who I am."

"Sure they do," Craig shrugged. "You're the supposed angel of the city. You're the biggest folklore to go around this town in ages. People love speculating whether or not you're actually up here."

"Well why can't I just tell them that I am?" he complained. "Why can't I just stand in the town square and shout," he paused, jumping up onto the stone ledge and throwing his arms out into the air, "Here I am!" he cried out. "Here is your angel in all his mortality! Here is the boy you've kept as a prisoner with your scolding eyes and your hateful hearts!" His voice echoed up above the people, cascading through his room and around the bells. He panted a bit, dropping his arms and looking down at the people. "Here's the boy that you won't give the chance to live," he finished softly.

He looked down at Craig, who watched him back with soft grey eyes. "Come on down," he said gently, holding his hand up to him. Kenny grabbed it and jumped back onto the ground. They stared at each other for a bit before Craig sighed. "Look," he started, "I'm not your keeper. I'm only here to feed you because Cartman's in training right now. But...," he looked towards Kenny's stairwell before glancing back at him, "You deserve to live," he nodded. "I don't know if you're an angel or not and frankly I don't care. But Cartman's nothing more than a possessive idiot. And besides, the old man knows that if you are this angel, you have a purpose."

Kenny nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Who knows? Maybe that purpose can't be fulfilled until you come out of this tower," Craig raised his brows. Kenny stared at him before his lips curled into a grateful smile. The ebon-haired boy smirked back and nodded. "Eat, Kenny," he gestured to the boy's plate. "Angels need their strength," he chuckled before turning on his heel and walking towards and down the stairway.

Kenny watched after him, listening to his slow steps before sitting down at his crate. He took a slow bite of his radishes, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed before he smiled again. His eyes wandered to his orange cloak hanging by the stairs for when he was cold.

He could hear the music wafting around him and couldn't help but grin wider as he brought his wooden spoon up into the air once again.

This angel had been tied down long enough, he decided. It was time to spread his wings.

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_**A/N: Usually I make my Craig super stoic but I wanted him having a cool role in this story :3c**_

_**I love Craig so mach. He's my third fave character in the show =w=**_

_**Enough of that, thanks for R&Ring! :D**_


	5. They Burned, but I Will Thrive

_**A/N: Same day setting as last chapter.**_

_**Enjoy :B**_

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'_Not a great crowd_,' the young gypsy thought as he finished off yet another of his stories. A few spare partakers clapped, a few coins were tossed into his old hat upon the stones. He sighed as they all began to disperse. He glanced at their earnings and frowned. Barely enough for a loaf of bread from that stingy baker down the way...He shook his head, grabbing the hat and staring at the money.

He looked to his side and smiled at the woman with the flowing black hair. "Here Mel," he said quietly, handing her the coins. "Get something for your kids."

Mel stared at him, "Kyle, you haven't eaten in a week. You need to buy food more than any of us."

"Nah," he shrugged, running his fingers through his bright orange hair. "I'm younger than you but older than your kids. I'm the perfect age to run on nothing," he grinned. "Go ahead and get some food for them. I heard young Lucy crying of hunger just last night, did I not?"

She pouted, "I told her that it wasn't going to be soon before she found food. You're spoiling my children, Kyle."

"Glad to help," he smirked before waving her away again and looking down the street. The woman opened her mouth to protest but the old man with the sitar put his hand on her shoulder and nodded at her. She set her lips before smiling, walking to Kyle and kissing his cheek lightly before moving down towards a fruit vendor. The old man walked up beside Kyle and chuckled.

"Ya know," he said lightly, running his thumb over the head of his instrument, "There's generosity, and there's stupidity, Kyle."

"What's stupid about feeding kids?" he muttered, glancing at him.

He shook his head. "You're a kid yourself, don't forget. You're only eighteen. You shouldn't be starving yourself just to see fit that others are prospering. What good is your efforts if you're not there in the future to make sure they stay as such?"

Kyle sighed, "Is there a point to this or what?"

The man smirked, placing his hand on his shoulder and leading him over towards the church. He led him up a few steps before gesturing for him to sit. "There's a point to everything."

"The point of a sword is going to be our biggest concern if that fat bastard of a priest finds us on the Church, Nate," he frowned.

The man sat beside him and chuckled, "Perhaps," he shrugged. "But who knows? Sometimes the church is forgiving of all of us. Sometimes we're all cleansed of our sins in some way. The church is a loving place."

"Unless you're us," Kyle finished darkly. "We're not allowed to be part of the loving atmosphere that the fat man boasts of so wearily often. According to him, we're destined only for the deepest pits of Hell. We can only be struck down by his god...," he trailed off with a sigh, leaning his head into his hand. "This place offers no love to our people."

Nate was silent for a moment, "This place offers something to everyone in this town. To those outside of our world, it's the place where their faith is constantly assured. It's the place where they believe that they can go and that each bad thing they do will bring them little consequence because their god protects them."

"And what of us?" he raised his brow at the man.

"It's a symbol of love in its own way," he stated with a smile. "A symbol that reminds us that we must constantly fight, that we are strong enough to stand up to God, to remind Him that we are His children as well, and that we need Him. One day, He'll find it in His heart to open the doors for us."

"And lead us into fire!" Kyle shouted, getting to his feet. "This is not a place of love and symbolism to us, Nathan!" he glared. "Unless you count the symbolism of us all being burned at the stake, killed before our parents...our kids...," his face dropped significantly. Nate's eyes glimmered sadly as he stared at the boy before sighing, slowly getting to his feet. He placed his hands on his shoulders and shook him.

"Your parents are gone so that you can be stronger," he told him firmly. "I told you this when it happened. I told you that now you live for them, and that makes you more able to go on as you do."

"Fuck this place," Kyle shook his head angrily. "Taking our lives because they think that we're less important," he gritted his teeth. "We work ourselves to death for their amusement and yet we're at lower ends of poverty than the harlots that walk the same streets as we!"

"Kyle," Nate said, squeezing his shoulders. "This is how things are, we have no choice but to live by the rules of nature."

"This isn't nature," he hissed, pulling away from him and shaking his head. "This is hatred. Hatred and bigotry are not merely nature. They're taught by one group in particular!" he shouted, pointing up at the large cathedral. "These...these...sheep herders! All they do is tell us that we're wrong and try to kill us when all we're trying to do is survive the same as they!"

"Now Kyle-"

"No! Don't 'now Kyle' me!" he furrowed his brow. "I watched my family burn to death at the hands of this giant monstrosity! I'm not about to go off about how I can see this damnable place as my beacon of hope and strength to carry on."

"Your parents and brother did," Nate reminded him solemnly.

"And look what happened to them," he retorted lowly. He let out a frustrated sigh and crossed his arms turning his head and looking away out towards the street. He felt Nate's hands on his shoulders again, but refused to look at him.

"Kyle, you're too young. You don't know the love that this place can offer just yet. You're still merely a child...and you've seen horrible things in your life. One day, it'll clear up, though. Just you wait and see."

"Perhaps the problem isn't me being too young," he glanced at him with piercing green eyes. "Perhaps it's the fact that you're too old. You know of a time where gypsies weren't so repressed. You think it'll happen again."

"I'm sure it will."

"Not in our lifetimes," he shook his head, looking back towards the street. He saw a tall black-haired boy wandering around and raised his brow. The boy looked up and caught his stare, gazing back at him from the middle of the street. "Be right back," he murmured, starting to move.

Nate grabbed his arm. "You preach about how dangerous this place is and you're about to go make conversation with a soldier?" he hissed.

"Calm down," he said smoothly, brushing off his arm. "I can outrun these fools any day and time and you know it, Old Man." He walked off from the man, heading towards the boy still staring at him with soft blue eyes.

"Catch me!" a child cried as she ran past him, a boy chasing after him. He watched them a bit and smirked, still walking towards the soldier.

"Shouldn't you be out patrolling, Soldier-boy?" he asked as he approached him. "Or are you lost?"

"I was raised here, Gypsy" he raised his brow. "And my name is Stan, not Soldier-boy."

"Oh? Well my name is Kyle, not Gypsy," he frowned. "Though I'm sure it makes no difference to you. We all look the same to you, I'm sure."

"What are you talking about?" he shook his head.

"Who were you staring at just now? Myself or my friend?" he jerked his head back towards Nate.

"Does it really matter?" He cocked his head. "You came to talk, so I was staring at you."

"For what purpose?" he narrowed his eyes. "Enjoying your view or trying to think of the best way to ambush me?"

He smirked lightly, "My, you have no faith in your fellow man."

"Not when that man is wearing the armor of my enemy," he sneered. "I had no problems with you when you were a mere boy returning from the wars. But now? Now that you work for that fat bastard and his hateful ideas, I have no intention of making peace with you."

"That seems awfully judgmental, Kyle."

"Tell me, what is the fat man's main objective for you?" he crossed his arms. "What does he have you doing, oh noble Sir Stanley?"

"Honestly?"

"It's preferred," he frowned.

He shrugged, "Capture you so he can kill you."

"And somehow I remain unsurprised," he rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms and placing his hands on his hips atop his loose green pants. "Well, I suppose I should be fair and give you this advice:," he licked his teeth. "No one has caught me. I'm the only gypsy in these streets who's been able to evade being captured without hiding throughout my lifetime."

"Do you hide?"

"Never," he frowned. "Not worth the wasted time. Besides, you guards are stupid enough to be outwitted with ease. I have no intention of making you my enemy any more than you already are, Stanley. Just choose between staying out of my way and letting me earn money to feed the kids of my people, or being consistently humiliated by being outsmarted by myself time and again."

Stan stared at him carefully, his lips curling into a small smile. "So, you think you're that tough, huh, Kyle? To be honest, you're looking rather sickly."

"Not tough, fast. There's a difference," he scoffed. "And what do you mean sickly?" he demanded.

Stan chuckled, reaching and grabbing Kyle's arm, wrenching him forward. Kyle let out a frustrated yelp as he pulled him up, their noses practically touching. Stan breathed warmly over his face, his blue eyes locking into Kyle's emeralds. "By order of the church, you're under arrest," he said lowly.

Kyle growled, his muscles tensing. "Not on your life, Buddy," he stated before bringing his knee up into Stan's crotch. The boy dropped his arm and yelled out, falling slowly to his knees and beating his fist on the cobblestone.

"Not...not fair..." he wheezed. "Dirty trick," he glared up at the beaming redhead.

"I'm a gypsy. Nothing I do is clean," he reminded him darkly. He watched Stan writhing a bit and sighed, shaking his head. He leaned down towards Stan and whispered, "I have nothing against you for who you are. I just hate your profession," he finished.

Stan looked up at him and raised his brow. The sound of running feet and jangling metal invaded their moment and they looked over to see two soldiers with their swords pointed at Kyle.

"Step away from him, vile gypsy!" one ordered gruffly.

"Token, Clyde," Stan blinked at them. Kyle leaned back up, his hands on his hips again.

"Can I help you fine gentlemen?" the gypsy asked cooly.

"Your lifeless body will hang in the streets if you don't listen to us," the brunette among the two threatened.

"Watch. Me. Tremble," Kyle rolled his eyes. "You two both know that usually I have fun outsmarting the both of you, but today I am simply not in the mood."

"Kyle, give yourself over as the filthy gypsy that you are!" Token barked.

"Oh shove it up your horse," Kyle grimaced. He looked down at Stan who was still on the ground. "Be thankful that we are not switched right now," he said with venom. "Were you one of my people, I'm sure that one of you soldiers would love to just take out your sword and behead us." He backed up, looking between the three of them with darting eyes. His gaze flickered to the steps of the church, finding Nate gone. Ran away already. He sighed, "If you will excuse me," he bowed. "I have a play to practice for for one of you," he stared at Stan, who got to his feet.

"Take him, Stanley!" Clyde shouted. "Take him prisoner!"

Stan stood still, his sword still sheathed. Token growled, lunging towards the redhead. Kyle jumped back, his hands bouncing him off the stone street and propelling him back. He landed on his feet, easily turning on his heel and making his way down the way, bounding over people and flipping to evade the stones that Token had picked up and began throwing at him wildly. Stan grasped his arm, shaking his head for him to stop.

"But Stanley, we have to capture him!"

"Not now," he frowned. "I'd rather...take him when he's at his best. There's no victory in taking someone not willing to fight back. That's like attacking a village of children."

"Gypsies are not innocent like children," a low voice started behind them. They looked to find Cartman glaring at them darkly. "Gypsies are the reason that God punishes us with the diseases and deaths of children. Do you really want that to continue, Stanley?" he hissed.

"Cartman, he outdid us and we can't deny it," he shrugged.

"You!" he quickly looked over at Clyde, who shrunk at his furious voice. "Why did you not even attempt to do something?"

"I...I...I thought that Stanley had him," he bit his lip.

Cartman sighed and rolled his eyes in aggravation. "You know, I hired you people to work for me to help contain the population of gypsies. It's been months since our last capture. Come here, all of you."

The three of the glanced at each other before closing in around the brunette. "Listen well. I told you to capture ONE of the gypsies. Just one. Just get me that boy and you'll be redeemed in my eyes. Make him your target. Stalk him, find out where he's weak, take him, and bring him to me. A few simple steps. I'm sure that even you all could handle that, could you not?"

They all nodded. "Cartman," Stan started, "I want to know why you want Kyle so badly. He's a kid. He's our age. He's not going to bring down civilization."

"I've told you, Stanley, he's a leader. And he hates the ways of the church! He could very well turn all of the gypsies into hate-filled creatures against God and try to wage war on us! So tell me, would you rather capture and get rid of this one pest? Or would you rather have a nest of vermin coming out to attack our ways of life?"

Stan remained silent and he nodded curtly. "That's what I thought. Now. I want him. I want him brought to me _alive_. Not 'hanging lifeless in the streets," he glared at Clyde, who cringed. "He's fast, but he's weak. Word on the streets are that he's sickly and frail. Hit him and grab him, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," they muttered.

"Good," he smirked. "Stanley, you're in charge of the operation. See to it that you don't fail me and our Lord, hm?"

Stan nodded slowly, his stomach twisting slightly at his agreement. He looked down towards the street where Kyle had ran, the vision of the boy's determined green eyes coming into his vision time and again. His lips curled into a smile, his anticipation brimming for the next day, when he could see those eyes once again.

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_**A/N: I'm sorry it was all dialogue but...it made it easier and a little more dynamic than my version that was mostly Kyle's thoughts. I didn't like that version :x**_

_**I'm determined to finish this by next-ish week. I just want it out of the way so I can tackle Unmasked and Olive Branch T_T**_

_**(And a new story or three but shhhhh you don't know those exist yet. :B)**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring!**_


	6. The Play and the Ploy

_**A/N: Gonna keep on rolling :3c**_

_**This is gonna be a long one x_x**_

_**Enjoy~**_

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The sound was almost deafening, even from where he stood. His orange cloak swayed in the wind as he stared down on the people making their way about town in a hurry, playing games with each other and dancing in the streets. His stomach knotted in excitement as he looked straight down, finding Cartman and Craig walking out of the church beside a few of the church guards. Kenny knew that the archdeacon would be waiting inside the church for the festivities to begin, and he'd watch them from the church steps. He was too old to be intertwined within the masses.

The blonde grinned, his fingers clenched around the edge of his balcony. He looked around at the crowd, his eyes scanning for any sign of their attention. When he found them all well and distracted he felt his nerves flair up in anxiety, eager to get down among them. He wrapped his cloak around himself, picking up his feet and sprinting to the edge of the cathedral. He looked down at the long wall, the intricate cross pattern engraved into the side of the building.

He took a deep breath, hopping up and putting one foot over the edge of the roof. He gulped, feeling his first bout of fear from his height. He swallowed it down, his determination outweighing his conscious screaming for him to stop. He held onto the edge of the stones, gliding his foot around the wall until his toes rested comfortably in the crevices of the cross. He let his weight fall onto that foot, closing his eyes in momentary fear. He felt his body settle and breathed a sigh of relief, moving his right hand down to grasp the cross as well. He maneuvered his right foot down to the cross below, leaving the safety of the roof entirely. His shoulders heaved with deep bouts of air as he continued slowly making his way down towards the ground.

His eyes occasionally peaked behind his shoulder, watching for anyone who may call attention to him. Everyone seems rather involved with their own business, too distracted to find the wall as any reason to break their gazes from the street. He grinned, letting his hand let go of the cross for a moment and putting his hood up and over his head. He gained some confidence as it became easier for him to maneuver down the wall. He picked up his pace, practically hopping down from cross to cross.

He slipped slightly and yelped, his nails digging into the stone. He held himself against the wall and forced himself to breath before looking down. The pattern changed, falling into a smooth surface. He was still about a third of the way from the ground.

"Shit," he murmured, looking around himself for another option. He found a water gable, situated under the statue of a saint the protruded from the wall. He narrowed his eyes, scanning down and seeing it landed on the street. He gulped, trying to reach out towards it. It just missed his fingertips and he swore again. He drew in a deep breath through clenched teeth, planting his feet onto the crosses and forcing his body to his left. He grasped around the gable and held on tightly, hanging with no support for a moment. He groaned, planting his feet against the stone and trying to slowly inch his way down.

'_Step, slide, step, slide_,' he mumbled in his head, trying to force his body to cooperate. He made it only about a quarter of the way down when his footing slipped. His arms clenched around the stone, keeping him in line with it as he started sliding down out of control. He gritted his teeth, grasping it tighter and trying to stop his footing. His cloth shoes skidded against the stone, but slowed him enough to where he could control himself. He gasped out a few times, his heart pounding furiously. He looked down, breathing out gratefully as he saw his distance from the street.

"Step," he said out loud, "slide." He did so a few more times before he let go of the gable, falling back onto the street with a groan. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and shook his head.

"Already drunk, Lad?" a voice spoke up. He looked up to see a middle-aged man grinning down on him. "Nothin's even started yet," he chuckled. "You should slow it down."

Kenny froze, muttering out an in-comprehensive reply. The man just laughed again, turning and picking a girl up by her waist, eliciting a surprised squeal and giggle from her as he set her down and they walked off. Kenny licked his lips, getting to his feet and making sure that his cape was secure around him before following them towards the crowd. He gasped as all the noise and excitement bubbled around him, looking around at all the people in awe.

He was bumped into and a girl with dark brown hair frowned. "Watch it!" she yelled at him. "Learn to walk!"

Kenny stared at her, cocking his head. Was this the pretty girl that Cartman had told him about? She seemed...plain. She groaned in disgust and pushed him, "Get out of my way if you're just going to stand there you stupid gypsy!" she shouted, shoving past him and going on.

"Gyp...sy?" he asked after her, raising his brow. A loud explosion of noise burst into his eardrums and he yelped, his heart beating rapidly in shock. He looked over to see a man banging a sword against a giant metal pot and several people dancing to his rhythm. He awkwardly waded his way around them, careful not to interrupt any of their twirling. He backed up with the rest of the observers, grinning widely as he watched them. Dancing was so much more beautiful when it was seen like this. You could see the smiles of the people, the way that they young men and ladies stared at each other with that longing in their eyes. He felt that excited flutter in his stomach again and heard the sound of clapping beside him as the song finished. He jumped right into it, clapping loudly as everyone else followed suit.

His grin was almost overbearing as he heard his own clapping drowned out by the others around him. He wasn't all alone on his terrace anymore. He was a part of it all.

He could hardly restrain himself from dancing with them.

The crowd's clapping slowed and they all looked towards the town square as the sound of instruments invaded their ears. Kenny stood behind and watched them all in confusion as they headed towards the center of the square.

"What...what's going on?" he asked aloud.

"The play, Silly," a young girl came up and nudged him forward. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the crowd. She dozed through, dragging him through all the people towards the front. She tugged him down and he sat beside her in front of everyone. "They're gonna do a show for us!" she pointed towards the people in the center of the circle that the crowd had made.

Kenny's eyes wandered around, finding Cartman and Craig sitting in chairs along the front to his side. He gulped, ducking down slightly with the fear that Cartman would find him.

"Alas!" a woman cried out and he looked to find a performer dramatically posed in the ring. "My children, good sir...they've nothing to eat," she dropped to her knees, crawling towards a man in the very center, looking away from her. She grasped his robe, tugging on him. "My friend, my fellow person. Have you no heart?"

"My heart belongs to only that of my god," he sneered, ripping his robe from her grip. "It has no room for such a worthless piece of garbage such as yourself."

The woman placed her hands over her face and sobs out loudly. A man makes his way towards the man and clasps his hands together. "Please Priest," he claimed, "Help this woman!" Kenny's eyes flickered to Cartman and back to the actor in the center. Cartman looked furious. Kenny noticed how unnatural the actor's extra weight seemed.

The girl leaned up to his ear and giggled. "He has a pillow under his shirt," she pointed. Kenny noticed a white corner hanging out of his clothing and his eyes widened. They were mocking Cartman. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

"Ha!" The 'priest' cried out. "This woman doesn't deserve my help! You foul creatures are not worth my time!" he turned away from him, his nose in the air. "Only the time of the cleansed are precious. Admit your sins and I shall perhaps consider you worthy."

"But we've done nothing!" the man proclaimed.

"You've threatened the clean ways of us god-fearing people!" he pointed at him accusingly. "Do not try to insult me and God with your lies. He is watching you even as we speak, you know!"

The man opened his mouth to retort before sighing loudly and turning his head in disgust, going to 'comfort' the woman still on her knees.

"What have any of you done for any of us?" 'Cartman' shook his head. "What purpose do you fill aside from polluting our people and making grand firewood."

"They entertain the people, and bring joy to children," an old voice croaked. A figure hobbled in from the side stage, clothed in a dark green cloak and using a stick to move along the cobblestone.

"Entertain?" he huffed. "As do the harlots. We do not allow them such free range, now do we?"

The old man coughed, moving closer and tapping 'Cartman's' leg with his cane. "You know, we all need help sometimes," he rasped. "They need it more than most."

"What do you know, Old man?" the 'priest' asked. "Compassion is wasted upon such wretches that roam our streets."

"Compassion is a gift from your god," the man coughed. "It is something that you of all people should be able to embrace. Destroying them is destroying society piece by piece, do you understand me?"

The 'priest' laughed loudly. "And what say do you have in this? You are nothing more than a waste of space, such as they are. What kind of power do you hold over someone who proclaims the word of God such as myself?"

"Foolish is the man who swallows more than he should," the old man hit his padded stomach pointedly. The crowd burst into laughter and Kenny's worried eyes flickered towards the brunette sitting beside Craig. He could see the fury in his deep eyes and gulped.

"You foolish old man!" 'Cartman' cried out, pushing him over. The old man collapsed, his hood falling to reveal Nate staring up at him.

"You should wait before you judge," he croaked out from the ground. "You never know the truth of thine enemy before he strikes."

'Cartman' guffawed. "And just what, pray tell, shall you do to me, my old friend? Smack me with your cane? Perhaps lecture me on the olden days of your youth? Or maybe demand that I chew your food for you?" the audience laughed again and Nate pulled his hood over his head once again. "That's right! Hide!" The 'priest' cried out.

"I have no intention of hiding from you," the man spoke again. The crowd heard the changing of his voice as he got to his feet and stood up straight. "You aren't worth hiding from when I have a power beyond your own." The crowd watched in astonishment as the cloak was thrown off to reveal Kyle standing in the midst of the circle.

Kenny's mouth gaped at the change before his eyes slid over Kyle's form. He was dressed in pure white, a mess of golden bracelets dangling from his skinny wrist. Kenny's eyes widened as he looked towards his face, seeing the beaming orange curls that fell lightly over his features.

"The hat," he whispered to himself.

"Huh?" the girl looked up at him with a raised brow. He didn't answer and she went back to watching Kyle as he perched on his toes.

"So you say that everything is only that which you see with your eyes, do you not?" Kyle questioned the opposing actor.

"Damnable gypsy, be gone!" 'Cartman' threw his hand at him menacingly.

Kyle grinned slyly as he hopped back a bit. "Have you no fears of your mortality, my friend? No questions as to whether or not your soul is truly as safe as you claim it to be?"

"What are you prattling on about, you stupid heretic?" he shouted.

"What, dear friend, if an angel walks among those you claim to be sinners?"

Kenny cringed at the word, clenching his fists and darting his eyes worriedly.

"What if," Kyle continued, "YOU are truly the sinner?"

"Who are you to judge me!" the man cried, lashing out at him again only to have Kyle gracefully hop out of the way. "What do you know of anything that is pure and righteous?"

Kyle bowed down a bit with a grin, "God hath sent me," he raised his eyes up to meet 'Cartman's'. "He gave me a task, to find for Him those who would proclaim that He would limit His infinite love to the few. I am to report back to Him, to tell Him of men such as yourself, dear preacher. God feels care in His heart for us all," he gestured around to the audience and to his fellow actors. "To the hungry," he pointed to the woman, "to the angry," he gestured at the man still comforting her. "And even," he continued, "To the stupid," he smirked and pointed at 'Cartman'.

Kenny smiled crookedly at the flowing movements that Kyle portrayed, his smooth voice flowing over the hushed crowd wave after wave. He licked his teeth reflexively, unable to peel his eyes away from the small boy.

"How can I know of your true divinity?" 'Cartman' bellowed.

"The same way you know of God's," Kyle replied thickly. "Through blind faith and trust in your reasoning." He gestured to the crowds, "Any one amongst you can be an angel in disguise, dear mortal," he stated. "It could be your best friend, or your worst enemy," he tore off his white scarf around his waist, securing it around 'Cartman's' head. "And now you meet your Father and see just how much of His love He reserves for those who shout His messages so falsely to the masses!" he cried before pulling down the scarf. The man vanished under the white material, leaving merely a mess of his robes and pillows.

The crowd burst into applause as Kyle brought the scarf back and wrapped it around himself, disappearing under the fabric. The audience clapped louder, Kenny joining them with an astonished look over his face, wondering where the boy in the orange hat disappeared to. His eyes fell onto Cartman, who was gripping the armrests of his chair, his knuckles turning white and his teeth gritting. Craig clapped and laughed, elbowing Cartman and saying something to him, getting a glare in return.

"Look!" a girl across from Kenny called out, all the eyes went up to where shy was pointing, finding the small redhead looking down on all of them with a sly grin. Kyle suddenly bounded back into view as he twirled off the roof of the fruit vendor's cart over the crowd, dressed in his dark green pants and orange scarf around his waist. More clapping ensued and the man and woman with him bowed slightly before Kyle gave one of his own, grinning widely.

He looked up at Cartman, smiling superiorly. "Don't look so glum, my friend!" he called out to him. He gestured over towards his applauding guards. "Sir Stanley sure seemed to enjoy it!" Cartman looked at Stan, who stopped clapping and faked a cough, looking away awkwardly. "Come now, Cartman," the redhead continued. "Where is your festive smile that we're all so fond of? Don't deny this lovely crowd your adorable chubby grin," he smirked. The audience burst into laughter and Cartman yelled out in anger, getting to his feet on his chair and glaring at the boy.

Silence fell over the people as the two of them stared at each other. "You," Cartman shook his head. "You DARE to harass me? After you just got through of making a mockery of God and his people?"

"Correction: This was a mockery of you," Kyle scoffed. "God's love and all that remained intact. We just made him a little more friendly than you tend to do."

"Gypsy, you are pushing your luck!"

"Preacher, shove it up your horse!" Kyle shouted back. The audience gasped and Nate came from the midst of the crowd, up beside Kyle.

"Kyle, that's eno-"

"Quiet, Nathan, I'm not done talking to my friend!" Kyle glared at him before looking up at Cartman again.

The large brunette narrowed his eyes. "You consider yourself quite clever, don't you?" he asked lowly.

Craig stood up, "Cartman, stop it."

He ignored him, pressing on, "I'll have you know this, little gypsy," he glared. "You are going to be captured and burned. We will all have a feast in celebration of your death. We will put your charred skull on display in our church. I personally will torture you until you admit your sins before you are punished by death," he paused and grinned evilly. "Just like your dear parents and brother."

Kyle's eyes widened before he growled. "You fucking son of a bitch!" he screamed, starting to advance on him. Nate grabbed him and held him back.

"Kyle, he's antagonizing you, calm down!" he pleaded. The crowd murmured amongst each other, watching Kyle trying to push away from him with tears beading his eyes. Kenny stood up slowly with the girl beside him, his face dropped worriedly as he saw the hurt and anger over Kyle's face.

"I promised the archdeacon I wouldn't cause a fuss," Cartman said lowly. "But I don't think this will be my fault if a 'fuss' occurs," he chuckled. "Stanley," he pointed. "Arrest that rat."

Stan looked up at him and to his guards and they all nodded at each other.

"Kyle, stand still and come peacefully," Stan started as he advanced towards the boy.

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Pathetic Soldier-boy," he spat before pushing Nate back into the crowd and slowly backing away from the group approaching him.

"We don't want to hurt you, just come here!" he shouted. "Don't make us use force!"

"I'm not. Your fat friend is," he murmured before the crowd behind him split apart with wide eyes as they watched Kyle facing down over twenty armed men. Kenny bit his lip and he felt the little girl grab his hand in fear.

"They're gonna take Kyle away," she whispered, her eyes swimming with tears. Kenny squeezed her hand back, his stomach twisting as a guard stepped beside him, his hand on his sword hilt.

"It'll be okay," he whispered back, mumbling under his breath, "This isn't fair."

"Shut up," the guard yelled, pushing Kenny and sending him onto the ground on his back. He sat up, his hood sliding down as he groaned and rubbed his head. The girl clutched him around his neck, sniffling as the guard walked away to keep going towards Kyle. Kenny jumped back to his feet, watching with the crowd as Kyle was backed into a corner.

"Kyle, just come peacefully," Stan instructed. "You're under arrest."

Kyle shook his head. "I told you, Stanley. I. Don't. Get. Caught," he spat before leaping back over a stand and pushing it down in front of them.

"Let's get that little gypsy!" Token shouted. The men jumped over the cart, Stan at the forefront as they chased Kyle throughout the street. The crowd started moving to watch, Kenny starting to follow before he was ripped back.

He looked up, his heart lurching as he found the angry chestnut eyes of Cartman glaring at him. "You," he hissed. "What are you doing out here!"

"I...I-I..." he stammered before Cartman pulled his hood back up and dragged him away from the young girl. They looked up to see Kyle grabbed by a guard and Cartman cheered successfully.

"Kyle!" Nate called from the crowd, the other gypsies gathered around him and screaming in panic. Kyle grabbed the edge of the guards sword, screaming as it tore through his hand but managing to grab it back and beat the man off with it.

Cartman growled, pushing his way through the people with Kenny still in his grip and Craig following behind them. Kyle clutched the guard's sword in his hands, waving it in front of him and backing away from the soldiers slowly.

"I will not fucking hesitate to stab you!" he shouted. "You wouldn't hold back on a gypsy so I won't give you undeserved mercy!"

The guards all broke into laughter, sans Stan, who stared at Kyle. "Stand back," he told the men.

"Stan, we have him!" Clyde protested.

"I said to stand back," he spat. The men sheathed their swords and Stan grabbed his, pointing it towards Kyle.

"I have no problems with you, Kyle," he started. "It's just your profession," he echoed.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, continuing to back away as Stan followed him. Cartman, Kenny, and Craig followed behind him.

"Get him, Stanley," Cartman grinned widely. "We have him!"

"You fucking think I chose this?" Kyle asked the black-haired boy. "You think I like having to outrun you stupid guards? Dance for petty cash? You think this makes me happy?" he screamed. "I fucking watched my family DIE for being this! You really think that makes me want to stay a gypsy?"

Stan's eyes softened a bit. "Kyle, come on. Turn yourself in, we can make you something better."

"Forget that," Cartman interjected. "He's going to die!"

Kyle looked at the brunette and back at Stan as he cornered him against the stairs of the church. He backed up all the way to the top of the steps looking at all the people staring at him and breathing brokenly. Kenny watched him with a cocked head, his eyes drooping in sympathy. He was trapped, too.

"All we do is live!" Kyle shouted. "We just try to fucking survive and you consider us blasphemous!" He watched as the guards lined the bottom and sides of the stairwell and he continued backing away with wide eyes. "We did nothing to harm you and yet you all think that my people deserve to burn! Where is the justice in that?"

"It is with God," Cartman claimed darkly, his lips twisting into a grin. "Where is your witchcraft now when you need it so?" Kyle blinked at him. "Men, take him!"

The guards ran towards him and the crowd screamed for Kyle. The boy turned and ran up to the church doors. He beat against them, "Let me in!" he screamed, dropping his sword. "Please let me in!" The door opened and a hand grabbed Kyle's arm, pulling him inside. The archdeacon stepped out in his place as the guards came to a stop and the yelling of the crowd ceased.

"He is in God's house now," the old man stated, his voice echoing. "Any of you who dare try to attack him as he resides in there will be punished with no mercy. It is God's will, and so it shall remain."

"WHAT?" Cartman screamed, dragging Kenny up the steps past Stan and the other guards. "Sir! He's a devil and you let him enter the church like this? He will do nothing more than bring misfortune and evil onto your cathedral!"

"Eric," the man glowered at him, "You have much to learn about love and peace in this community and through the eyes of God. He will stay here and he will remain safe as such. Anyone trying anything otherwise will be punished. This includes you, Eric."

Cartman stood dumbfounded for a moment as the entire crowd stared at him. Stan looked from him to his guards, finding them as entranced as everyone else before slowly backing away and ducking down, heading off towards the side of the church. He could hear Cartman yelling in protest and shook his head.

"Shove it up your horse," he murmured. He ran along the side of the building, finding the entrance used for the guards and unlocking it with a key around his belt. He pushed through and closed it, locking it once again before slowly making his way through the cathedral. He heard the silence of the church echoing around him and smiled at the serenity of it, walking into the main room and finding a small figure on his legs against a statue of Mary, breathing heavily and clasping his arms around himself.

He smirked, walking towards him lightly. He stood in front of him and stared at him as he shook. "So much for never hiding," he spoke, his voice echoing around them.

Kyle gasped, getting up to his feet and backing away from Stan. "Don't touch me," he hissed.

"Calm down," he held his hands up in defense. "I can't touch you when you're in here. The archdeacon was kind enough to make sure that you were somewhere safe. You should be thanking him."

"As I will do once he's back inside," he glared.

Stan chuckled and nodded. "Understood. So long as I'm in here, you don't have to be so wary," he stated, noticing Kyle's tense stance. "I'm not a soldier here, I'm just a Catholic."

"Well, you're still a pathetic man to me," Kyle sneered.

"I thought you didn't hate me. Thought it was just my profession," he smirked at him.

Kyle loosened only slightly, biting his lip. "What do you want, Stanley?"

"I want you to know that you're safe. Nothing more, nothing less. You have one of the best hideouts in the city," he smiled at him. "Be thankful that the archdeacon is kind."

"I'm thankful for anyone who is kind," he spoke lowly. "You find so little of it these days. Even from this so-called 'God'," he glared at the stained-glass window above the altar.

Stan cocked his head. "From your performance today, I thought that you were faithful yourself," he said.

"You have to know your audience," he mumbled. "I perform to meet the needs and views of the people watching. I only somewhat twist what my material is to get my own messages across...," he looked away and sighed. "My parents believed in God. Their dream was to be able to pray in this church," he looked around a bit. "I hate this place. I never wanted to come in here."

"And it ends up being your sanctuary. Oh the irony," Stan chuckled.

Kyle glared at him. "You wouldn't understand any of this. You're...just..."

"A stupid soldier?" Stan raised his brow.

Kyle sighed again and shook his head. "No. You're just not a gypsy," he looked at the floor miserably.

Stan cocked his head, looking for something comforting to say to him before the door burst open. Cartman and the archdeacon came towards them, Craig and the figure cloaked in orange headed up the side steps.

"You got too lucky," Cartman hissed at Kyle, who stared at him with angry green eyes. Cartman grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, eliciting a yelp from the redhead. He grabbed his chin and held him still.

"Eric, let go of him now," the old man demanded.

"You won't last in here forever," Cartman whispered, his face right over Kyle's. "You'll either die in here...or you'll try to run and you'll die out there," he jerked his head back towards the doors. Kyle tried to break away and Cartman held onto him tighter.

"Eric, now!"

"The very second you try to get out and run," he grinned, "You're mine. Your life will belong to me, do you understand that?"

Kyle threw his body forward and propelled Cartman away from, backing up to the pews and looking between him and Stan with cautious eyes.

Cartman chuckled, starting to walk away. "I have guards stationed at each window and door," he called back towards Kyle. "Stanley, you'll guard the main entrance."

Stan looked at Kyle hopelessly one last time before turning and following Cartman to the door. Kyle stared after them with deadened eyes as Cartman turned one last time as the doors closed behind himself and the guards. His dark eyes trained on Kyle's shaking form and an evil grin crawling up his smug face.

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_**A/N: DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNN**_

_**That was fun. Next chapter will be a little easier on all of us though xD**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring! :3**_


	7. Apart We Fall, Together We Will Fly

_**A/N: Onwards!**_

_**Ps: Last chapter. I don't know if it offended anyone or portrayed God wrong or what. But...just in case it offended someone, I am sorry. I'm not exactly the religious type so I'm really just trying to imagine what possible things that might be said.**_

_**SO. yeah. Sorry if I'm messing up or something but uh, take it as it is. I'm not changing it :3**_

_**Now that that's out of the way, enjoy~**_

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He sat on the wooden pew in the ghastly silence, staring down at his bandaged hands. The archdeacon had told him not to worry, that God would keep him safe so long as he stayed within the church. But Kyle knew better. He grew up on the outside, he could never last very long being kept locked up like this. However the boy also wasn't stupid. Cartman was devious. He would be true to his word, keeping guards stationed outside at every possible way out to catch him.

Kyle knew that he was fast, but he wouldn't be able to escape all the men again if he just fell into their hands.

He gritted his teeth, his gaze locked on his blood-stained bandages. They still hurt from earlier when he'd grabbed that soldier's sword. He sighed, looking at his worn fingers, feeling the aching of his tired legs and feet. He was so used to being constantly on alert, keeping lookout for any signs of authority that the church would send to raid the gypsy's camps. He wasn't used to letting his guard down, or just relaxing in general. He had never noticed how tired and sore his muscles were, the way that his feet were calloused from the relentless twirling around the rough cobblestone streets. His fingers were torn and cracked from the way he worked day after day.

This was not the kind of life he thought he'd still be living.

He sighed again, listening to it echo around the room and shaking his head. This was terrible. The old man told him to be careful, that Cartman was still able to roam around the cathedral. He wasn't allowed to touch the gypsy, but that didn't mean that he couldn't antagonize him and make him weak enough to break. He told him that he would be okay, that he was strong enough to ward of Cartman's attacks, that earlier in the town square was just a fluke.

Kyle wasn't too sure anymore. Everything about the way that Cartman went about taunting him seemed to be getting to him. The only thing that was keeping him sane anymore was Nate, but none of the other gypsies were permitted into the cathedral. Kyle was alone. He was alone in the fat man's territory nonetheless.

The archdeacon called it a safe haven. Kyle called it Hell.

He got to his feet, unable to stand the relentless stares of Mary and Jesus and the saints as they gazed down on him. Accusing him, blaming him, shadowing him in what he had been raised to believe: That he was a heretic. He didn't belong in this building, he didn't belong in the home where the heart finds hope. His faith was to be placed in the skills that he had acquired on the streets. His own heart was his god, his sanity his savior.

His parents and brother had thought otherwise. They put too much faith into what could be. Nate was the same way and he'd been taken prisoner once before. He'd escaped but his parents had not been so lucky. They tended to pray instead of really making the effort to get away. Kyle learned quickly that the only thing he could trust was himself. It was a world of every gypsy for himself, anything else would result in almost immediate capture.

He walked along the cooled stone floor of the church, looking around at the ominous light beaming through the arches from the rows of candles lining the pews. He rubbed his arm, cringing slightly at it all. It seemed too clean for him, it seemed all-too pure. He was so used to nothing but the lowest of the low. The dirtiest of the filth. This kind of sanctuary was not meant for people like him. It was made for those who their god deemed worthy. He was nothing but a menace to that kind of god's society.

His ears perked as he heard a faint sound as he neared the wall. The old man's room was on the other side of the church, so this wasn't the sound of him. He kept walking, hearing some sort of tapping noise and raising his skinny brow. He strolled along the wall until a crevice came into his view. He paused, looking into the hole and finding a staircase, the tapping noise emanating from above them.

He licked his lips in curiosity, cocking his head and looking behind him for any sign of a watcher. He found nothing but the statues watching him and slowly placed his hand on the inside of the wall. He started cautiously making his way up the stone stairs, braced for any kind of attack that could result from Cartman being the source of the sound. The noise got a bit louder and he narrowed his eyes. It sounded more like clapping the closer he approached it.

He looked up at the end of the flight of steps and noticed that there was a large wooden door at the edge. He hopped up the remaining steps, grabbing the round handle at the end and pushing the door up. He slowly peeked his head up, looking around and finding a bare wooden room sans a mattress on the floor and a small table. He ducked down a bit and found himself looking up at the great bells of the cathedral.

The clapping was louder still and he looked for the source, hearing it coming from further outside. He took a deep breath, pushing the door the rest of the way up and over his head, sliding it out of his way and crawling up onto the stable floor. He carefully placed the door back in its place and got to his feet, looking at his surroundings.

"Wow," he whispered aloud in awe, staring up and going around in a circle as he stared at the massive bells just hovering over his head. He stopped as he still heard the clapping and cocked his head towards a small exit out towards the balcony. He slowly made his way over on his toes, peeking his head around the corner and finding another boy sitting outside, his blonde hair gleaming in the pale moonlight.

The boy was humming a rhythmless tune, clapping blankly as he stared out over the ledge. Kyle debated going back downstairs and leaving the boy on his own before hi curious nature overtook that idea.

He took a deep breath, stepping outside and clearing his throat. The blonde turned in shock and fell off his crate, staring at him fearfully. "No, no, no, it's okay," he shook his hands defensively. "I don't bite," he assured him. "I'm sorry, I just heard a noise and wanted to see what was going on. I didn't mean to scare you."

The boy stared at him a bit more, backing away slowly on the ground. Kyle stared back, biting his lip awkwardly. "H-here," he said, extending his hand out. "Do you need help getting back up?"

"Who are you?" a meek voice escaped him.

"My name is Kyle," the boy said, his hand still outstretched.

"You're the boy from earlier today," the boy said, his lips twitching into a smile as he took Kyle's hand.

"Yes, I guess everyone can recognize me now," he chuckled tiredly, pulling him to his feet. "Who are you? Why are you up here?"

"I'm...I'm Kenny," he stated with a lopsided grin, staring at the boy intently. Kyle raised his brow but gazed back, a bemused smirk over his face. "O-oh!" he said, rushing back into the room. "I-I should get you a seat," he stated in a rush.

"No, I'm fine," Kyle laughed softly, "Don't trouble yourself." Kenny ignored him, grabbing the crate at his table and toting it out and putting it beside his one on the balcony.

"Sit," he insisted, gesturing for him. Kyle smiled softly, taking the seat and watching Kenny quickly sit down next him in excitement. "I...I really liked your play," Kenny mumbled out.

"Thank you," he grinned.

"I-I mean, I'd never seen one before so yours was the first but I bet it was...one of the best ever," he rambled. Kyle smiled wider as he continued, "And what Cartman did to you was terrible and d-don't worry because he's gonna-" he stopped staring at Kyle with wide eyes.

"What?" Kyle asked. "What's Cartman gonna do?"

"It's...hair?" Kenny blinked.

"Ex...excuse me?" Kyle raised his brow.

Kenny leaned forward a bit, raising his hand up Kyle's cheek. Kyle sat in bewilderment as he ran his fingers up his face and up into his hair. He twisted some curls around his digits with everloving care. "It's so...beautiful," Kenny breathed out.

"My hair? What? Why?"

"It's...it's so pretty," he smiled. "I've never seen this color hair."

"Oh...," Kyle trailed before chuckling as Kenny continued messing with his curls. "My mother had this color hair. I got it from her."

"Wow..." he breathed out. "It's so curly, too...everyone else has plain hair...at least...everyone I've seen," he frowned. He continued playing with the redhead's scalp before he saw Kyle looking at him amusedly and quickly drew his hand back. "I-I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I just...I've never..."

"It's fine, it's fine," he laughed, patting Kenny's hand. "Kenny, why are you up here?" he asked. "Do you live here?"

The blonde stared at him, feeling his hand still in Kyle's and gulping. He nodded slowly. "Yes. I live up here."

Kyle looked around him, "It's not much of a home, now is it? Why do you live up here?"

"The archdeacon makes me," he shifted uncomfortably. "My parents died and he decided to keep me up here."

"Wait, so he adopted you?"

"No...not...exactly," he looked away. He sighed and took his hand back, turning and looking out over the ledge. "He thinks I'm too different to live anywhere else. He won't let me leave."

"What?" Kyle asked. "He...he's keeping you prisoner?"

"No, no, no, I mean...he still makes sure I'm taken care of," he defended the old man. "He just doesn't like me being seen."

A moment of silence passed between them, Kenny biting his lip anxiously with the fear that Kyle would see him as too different as well and would leave him alone again. His heart jumped as Kyle started to speak, "I remember a story from when I was only about ten," he said softly. "Everyone said that there was some kind of angel living up in this bell tower," he looked up at the grand instruments then back to Kenny. "That's why no one was allowed up here."

Kenny flinched and Kyle smiled. "So it's true?" he whispered. "Kenny, are you the angel?"

"I...I don't think so," Kenny looked at him with sad eyes. "Angels...aren't they supposed to be like your angel in the play?"

Kyle tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

"I mean don't they...serve a purpose? Aren't they supposed to be here for some special reason?"

"Who's to say you're not?" Kyle questioned, scooting closer to the blonde. "Who's to say that you're not the savior of this town or something? Has someone told you otherwise?"

"Cartman," Kenny mumbled.

"Cartman is nothing but a fat bastard with no regard for other people," Kyle scowled. "As you saw today, he's more interested in just getting what he wants."

Kenny stared at him sadly, "He wants people to hurt. He wants you and me to hurt."

"Sounds like it," Kyle nodded. "Seems as though we have a common enemy."

Ken sighed, slouching down slightly. "Today was the first time I've left this tower in almost...sixteen years," he stated miserably. "Cartman got so mad when he caught me..."

Kyle stared at him, grabbing his hand and holding it. "Ken, if you're an angel...it's your job to fly, isn't it?"

"What if I'm not an angel?"

"Obviously they think you are for some reason," Kyle replied. "Here," he said, letting go of his hand and taking his face between his palms. "Look at me," he directed. Kenny shyly looked up into his eyes, his stomach twirling as he locked into the deep emeralds glimmering in the moonlight. "I think...," he started softly, "That you're an angel in your own right. You're right, angels are here with a purpose. And I'm sure that one day, yours will be fulfilled just as it's supposed to be. But right now," he said, brushing some of Kenny's bangs back with a smile. "Your wings have just been clipped."

"Clipped?" he repeated in a whisper.

"But they'll grow back," he smiled gently at him. "They'll grow back and you'll be able to fly off and be free again. You just have to wait until they're ready for you to take flight. Don't rush yourself or you'll just end up falling back to Earth and have to start all over again."

Kenny stared at him before smiling back widely, taking Kyle's hands from his face and holding them in his own fingers. "No one's ever been kind to me before," he admitted softly. "The old man gave me a home, but..."

"But there's a difference between a home and this," Kyle finished. "I understand. I have the same problem. There's little that one would want to live with constantly when you live on the street as I do. And don't worry, few have been kind to me in my life as well."

Kyle's eyes drifted to the ground sadly and Kenny squeezed his hands. "Did...did Cartman really...wh-why..." he couldn't find his words and Kyle looked back at him with glittering eyes.

"You really are an angel in your own way, Kenny," he smiled sadly. "You don't have the same undeserved hatred of my people."

"Are you one of those...gypsies?" Kenny asked, recalling the girl from earlier that day who's shoved him away.

Kyle nodded. "Yes. Gypsies are merely street performers. We dance and sing and tell stories for money from people who wouldn't mind a moment's entertainment."

"Why are people so cruel to you then?" Kenny asked, holding his hands tighter.

Kyle sighed, "I...I honestly haven't the slightest idea. My parents said it was just because we're different. But if that's the truth, why do we not hate the miller or the baker as well?" Kenny narrowed his eyes in thought and Kyle chuckled. "You and I are very much the same, Kenny. We're trapped in our worlds and no one seems willing to let us out without stepping on into another life being our only salvation."

"What...what can we do then?" Kenny asked innocently.

Kyle grinned madly, clasping his hands back and leaning in towards him. "We run," he whispered.

"What?" Kenny blinked.

"We can escape as the heretics that they claim us to be. You and I, Kenny. We could go somewhere completely new and free from the wretched memories of this town and the people who inhabit it. We could start new lives, not as an angel and a gypsy, but just two boys making their way through the world."

Kenny could hear the excitement, the pure need brimming in Kyle's voice. "But...Cartman..."

"If we escape, he'll be out of our minds forever," he told him. "We'll never have to worry about his cruelty again."

"But what if he catches us? Or just you?" Kenny asked worriedly. "Kyle, you haven't heard him talk about you like I have. He really wants you captured. He wants you all for himself."

"He won't get that chance if we just run," he assured him. "He won't keep you locked up anymore. He won't keep trying to catch me."

"He'll look for you," he insisted.

"Then let him look! Let him look to the ends of the Earth but so long as you and I keep on our feet, he won't be able to find any trace of either of us! Kenny, come with me. We'll find a way out of this horrible cathedral, we'll run out of this town, and we'll keep going until we find somewhere where we can rest and begin anew!"

"I...I want to," he bit his lip.

"Then do it," Kyle whispered. "Kenny, I've never been captured. This is the closest I've come. I can lead us on the escape. They won't be able to track us no matter what tricks they have up their sleeve."

Kenny bit his lip harder, looking over the edge of the balcony and darting his eyes worriedly. He could be in more trouble than he could imagine if he was caught trying to escape, trying to escape with _Kyle_ of all people, nonetheless. What's worse is if Cartman caught the small gypsy, he was doomed. The church couldn't save him once Cartman got his hands on him outside the cathedral walls. He would be put to death in an instant...It was almost too much for Kenny's conscious to bear. But on the other hand...He looked up at the boy again, staring at his pleading green eyes and feeling his heart melt and trickle down his system.

"I...I know a way down where the soldiers won't be able to see," he said hesitantly.

"You do?" Kyle grinned. "Kenny, this is wonderful!"

Kenny brought his hands up and gripped him tightly. "You're the only person who I've ever met outside of a church member here..." he gulped. "Do you promise that if I take you out of the church, you'll stay with me?" he looked at him pleadingly.

Kyle's face fell. "Kenny, of course I do," he assured him. "Don't let anything you've heard fool you. Gypsies are true to their word. I need you and you'll need me. Besides, what kind of rogue would I be if I didn't accept the help of some kind of guardian angel?" he smiled crookedly. Kenny bit his lip again and Kyle laughed. "Kenny, I promise. I'm not going to leave without you, all right?"

Ken smiled at him and nodded, "Thank you."

Kyle grinned back and sighed as he felt Ken clutching his hands tighter in joy. "We're both outcasts of society," he said softly. "But now we can be outcasts together. I think that's more than my band of gypsy friends could be any day. Our code is to live by our own rules and should one of us get caught, the others are not to interfere. It's every man for himself...," he trailed off. "I'm tired of living like that. I've never had a friend or anyone I could ever count on."

"You can count on me!" Kenny interjected quickly.

Kyle smirked at his playfulness. "I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am to hear that for the first time," he nodded, his eyes gleaming gratefully. "Tomorrow night, Kenny. Tomorrow we'll break out of here and no one will ever hear from us again."

Kenny grinned, his own excitement starting to boil. Away from this tower, out of sight of Cartman and his abuse, of the old man and his excuses. And best of all, away with Kyle, who made his stomach a fit of trapped moths in the pale moonlight, the one who assured him that he was truly a godsend, but in his own way. He smiled widely, feeling his slender fingers clenching his own back and feeling his heart beating wildly.

Tomorrow could be his day; Tomorrow with Kyle, he could take the first steps before finally reaching the flight proclaimed of him so very long ago.

* * *

_**A/N: Oh those silly little misfits. They want to make their own little island. /wheretheyhavebuttsecks  
**_

_**What? I didn't say anything.**_

_**...It's 6 am. I need to sleep x_x**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring! :3**_


	8. Infatuation in the House of God

_**A/N: Shorter chapter, let's go :3**_

_**Enjoy!**_

* * *

He was up there. He was right. Up. There. He could just run up those stairs. He could just break down the door. He could haul that little gypsy into the street and arrest him right then and there.

He could. He could.

Cartman sat in his own bedroom on the outside of the main room, staring out towards the pews and the sunlight beaming down through the windows. His hands were tightly clasped, his fingernails digging into his own skin and his knuckles turning a ghastly white.

He hadn't slept the entire night beforehand, his mind too overrun with thoughts of what he could be doing. What he _should_ be doing.

It was sickening to say the least.

The old man just didn't understand, he'd told himself. He was far too gone in the ways of the world to realize just what a threat that little redhead posed upon their society.

A godless heathen. A talentless beggar. A disrupter of the peace.

This was what a gypsy was. Not 'just a performer' as the archdeacon had called him after he had declared Kyle's protection to the town. A performer was someone in the arts. Someone who made their living honestly, not dancing and telling tales on the streets.

It was disgusting. It was immoral to have in front of the church. It was a mockery of what they had molded the town into, into who the good God-fearing citizens had become. It was a disgrace and an act of ridicule upon the church.

Cartman sank lower into his chair, his dark eyes slitting dangerously.

It was enticing.

The way that the small boy was able to be so defiant. The way that he so bravely stood up to Cartman himself and the rest of the town, even when in the face of certain death. The way that he continued on, despite the truths of his past continually staring him back in the face each time he saw himself reflected in the golden bangles on his arm.

Cartman growled lowly at the thought. The proud gleaming of those striking green eyes. The way that he so skillfully maneuvered around on his toes, easily evading anything in his path.

The way he'd continually caught Cartman's attention. The way that he looked at him with such confidence in his own abilities.

Cartman wanted that gaze gone.

The simplistic stare that he gave the apprentice was infuriating to say the least. The angry glare that was given when they confronted in the church still burned into the brunette's mind. The way that they practically screamed 'I'm not afraid of you'.

"We'll see about that," Cartman muttered, slowly getting to his feet and crossing his hands behind his back. He walked out of his room and out towards the congregation center. He looked at the bright light shining over the pews and sighed contently.

This was where he was raised. This is where he tasted his first sip of power. The ability to control the hearts and emotions of others; it was intoxicating. He had the power to make people smile, make them stronger, make them ready for anything.

But he also had the opposite effect. He could make them cry. He could make them suffer. And above all, he could make them break.

But Kyle was different. He didn't hide like the other gypsies, like the other sinners. He confronted them, made talk with the other citizens of the town and any means of authority. He constantly challenged them, taunted them.

He was taking sips of Cartman's own power.

His eyes aimlessly glanced around, looking for any sign of the sinner waltzing about his church. But he knew better.

He was up _there_.

He was no doubt with that wretched idiot, Kenny. Someone too naive to understand the true danger that the small boy posed to society. Too sheltered to see that Kyle would do nothing but charm him into doing as he wished before pushing him off as he would any other person that he came into contact with.

It was the gypsy code. It was engraved into Kyle's mind and in the back of his dark heart. Cartman had apprehended more than enough gypsies in his time to know the way that they worked, the way that they were able to moderately function alongside each other.

His lip curled into a small snarl as he thought of Kyle and Kenny sitting up there together, both of them complaining about how people were so 'unfair' to them. The apprentice wasn't a fool. Kyle would persuade Kenny to rebel, it wouldn't be hard; the blond was more than desperate for any kind of companionship, he'd follow anything that anyone who wasn't a member of the church told him.

He stopped behind a row of pews, glaring at the staircase leading up to the bell tower. He glanced around for the old Deacon walking around, a side of him screaming to just go up there and throw Kyle off the godforsaken balcony.

But then again, he wanted the chance to deal with him directly, to humiliate him in front of the entire town, he wanted to _watch_ the look on his face as he left this earth and descended downwards towards Hell.

"Cartman, staring won't make him come down," a voice interfered with his dark fantasies.

He turned, finding Craig staring at him with a cocked brow beside the pews. "What do you want, Craig?" he spat.

"I want you to stop acting like you're a mass murderer," he rolled his eyes. "Cartman, you're here to learn the ways of the church, not to laugh evilly and imagine the little gypsy being your slave."

"That is a way of the church," he huffed. "To rid this world of the foul wretches like he."

"He's. A. Kid," Craig enunciated. "He's just under our age, Cartman. You're blowing this into far more of a deal than it needs to be."

Cartman glared at him darkly, walking over and looming over Craig who remained unfazed.

"He'll grow older," he spat. "He could lead a rebellion against us!"

"Judging by the way he is, I highly doubt that," he retorted. "Gypsies tend to veer away from members of the church. They're never the first to strike."

"Do you not watch him!" Cartman cried out, his voice rebounding around the stonewalls. He is constantly trying to seem assertive to us! He is always the one gypsy who will backtalk instead of run! Face it, Craig, he could form a rebellion if more people act like him!"

"Why don't YOU face something, Eric?" He demanded, a pause falling between them as they glared at each other. "You. Are. Obsessing," he said curtly. "You're _infatuated_ with him."

Cartman's face automatically twisted into disgust and shock, his body recoiling from the weight of Craig's assumption. "_Excuse me_?" he yelled. "Infatuated? Are you stupid or something, Tucker?"

"Think about it for a second, Cartman," he glared. "He's just. Like. You. He's arrogant of other people telling him what to do, he's determined to live the way that HE sees fit. And most of all, he's stubborn. Face it, Eric. He's the small gypsy version of _you_."

Cartman stared at him incredulously before his rage flared once more. "I. Am._ Nothing _like that little rat," he snarled. I am here for the good of the people, I am here to protect their needs from the likes of him! I am nothing but God's servant serving my purpose, Craig. I am not some foul-mouthed little street monkey!"

Craig stared back at him before his lips tugged into a smirk. "I expected you to say something like that," he turned around, about to walk away before looking over his shoulder and muttering, "_Kyle._"

Cartman tensed, watching him as he walked off towards the front of the congregation hall. He grit his teeth reflexively, his eyes fueling with anger at the black-haired boy.

How _dare_ he so much as suggest something as vile as that!

Kyle was an urchin, unfit for the most filthy of societies. Cartman himself was a priest's apprentice. He was being trained to lead a new wave of followers through the darkest of times.

He couldn't be infatuated with such...such a disgusting creature!

He just wanted him to suffer. He wanted to watch him writhe in pain beneath his foot, listen to him gasping for breath, for mercy. He wanted to see the look on his face, the desperate pleas for Cartman to spare his life, he wanted him to beg.

Cartman stopped short as he noticed his breath hitching at his mental pictures of the scene, the way his heart pounded in uncontrollable adrenaline.

The way that a certain part of his body was much more awake than previously before.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head in disgust. He tried to remember where he was, the fact that he was in the house of God, that he couldn't fall prey to such ideals.

These thoughts were quickly overridden with images of Kyle screaming, of him fighting weakly, of him confessing his ways were wrong, letting Cartman hold the very strings of his life.

Letting him take him for everything he was worth.

"NO!" Cartman screamed, his hands curling through his hair in frustration. He couldn't have such thoughts, it was unholy, it was filthy...

But he wanted it. He _craved_ it. He could _taste_ the tears running down Kyle's beaten and bloodied face. He could just feel the smooth skin of the gypsy under his palms as he held him against the ground, marred by wounds and marks of all kinds. He could see those once proud eyes, completely overshadowed with fear, with regrets. He could hear the vibrato in his once-strong voice as he begged him for his kindness. As he promised that he would become whatever Cartman wanted in order to save himself from death.

Cartman shuddered as it became abundantly clear:

He _lusted_ after it.

The thought was horrifying, but undeniable at this point. He wanted that gypsy all to his own. To torture, to kill, to reinvent in the best way that he saw fit.

Cartman's tongue passed over his lips, his fingers clenching slightly in his anxiety. This was wrong, he should just want him dead and gone, not...not this.

Pray. He needed to pray.

He groaned and shook his head, quickly heading past the pews and veering off to a small hallway to the right. He walked past a barrage of doors, opening the fourth on his left and stepping inside briskly, closing and locking it tightly. He looked at a small statue of Mary set on a table and sighed heavily, kneeling before it as he had so many times in the past.

The deacon taught him to come here when he needed his thoughts. Not the congregation room, not his own bedroom. This place was sanctioned and holy, impure thoughts banished in this room.

As he bowed his head, he couldn't help but furrow his brow at the thought of said description. Still all he could imagine was that little gypsy. His cocky attitude, his smug grin, all the ways that he could destroy him into nothing more than a miserable pile of sin.

Something had to be done.

His ears perked amongst his thoughts as the bells began to ring.

He scowled. Kenny.

No doubt that he was teaching that disgusting creature the way to ring the bells as he had for years on end, his excitement bubbling as he rambled off his ways to the wretch. Then Kyle would be watching him, smiling at him. He'd be planning a way to control the blond, to make it so that he could find him a way out of this church and back into the streets where he felt the most comfortable.

The bells lost their rhythm just slightly and the brunette tensed. Kenny was letting that vile thing ring the bells. He was letting an abomination touch a marker of God, of the cry to all the citizens to not fear, that the church was always standing for their comfort.

How _dare_ he.

Cartman's eyes shot open at the thought of the two of them up there together. Laughing, smiling, their worries dissipated for the time being...

His pupils shrunk slightly in realization. They were together. Two outcasts were up there _together. _They would grow closer, things would fall into play for the both of them if he waited and let things get out of hand.

The Deacon was too trusting of the two of them. He was all-too-willing to let both of them live and breathe the same air that should only be preserved for God's rightful servants.

Time. Time was of the essence.

He bit his lip slightly in thought before stopping and looking up at Mary, his lips twisting upwards into a grin.

Those fools would play right into his hands if he could just bring in the right bait.

It was just a matter of time.

* * *

_**A/N: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU THIS TOOK TOO LONG.**_

_**Sorry :D**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring!**_


	9. The Soldier's Gamble

_**A/N: Onward, Chillins :3**_

_**Enjoy~**_

* * *

He slowly paced the outside of the church, his blue eyes flickering up now and again up the gargantuan structure. He laced his fingers together behind his back thoughtfully as he paced, a part of him completely lost in thought. Why was he so looking forward to just catching a glimpse of that red hair in the pale moonlight? Why couldn't he help but see those bright, challenging green eyes every time he closed his own?

The past two years of his life had been nothing but fighting. He'd seen countless men going into war and putting on their best fronts. Nothing though had matched what he could always see in Kyle's eyes: Undying fear. He'd seen the gaze of many a dying man, the look of unadulterated terror passing through them as they left this earth to ascend into the next life.

No matter how many times he could count, though, no matter how vividly his imagination and his memory could play upon him, he could never place Kyle into that look. He couldn't see the gypsy falling into Cartman's plans as the fat man dreamt of. He couldn't see him begging for mercy, or ever apologizing for being as he was. It just didn't seem probable.

He could easily see Kyle going out in the same way that they had met. A glimmer to those emerald eyes, taunting them; telling them that they were not going to win over him and that he was set for whatever this life or the next had in store for him.

He bit his lip slightly upon this thought; the thought of Kyle actually being able to be apprehended by the likes of Eric Cartman. At this point however, he didn't find it to be that much of an improbability.

The small gypsy was literally trapped in the priest's domain. He couldn't wriggle out of trouble by simply walking out the door or sneaking out of a window. From what Cartman had told the soldier, Kyle was in the bell tower. He was a sitting duck, able to do nothing but sit and wait. From what he'd been hearing, he was still being given food and necessities to keep him going, so he wasn't going to be driven out by mere facts such as those; but Stan had sen enough of his kind to know one thing: Gypsies can't stand being trapped. They're too used to being out in the open air to be able to function on the inside.

Stan sighed. From what he'd seen of Kyle, he knew all-too-well that Kyle was comfortable on the streets. He knew the games and he knew how to break the rules to suit his own situations.

In the cathedral, though? He was in Cartman's territory. He didn't know where the fat man could be lurking, he didn't know any ways to get out as he was probably looking for as Stan stared up the wall.

Stan couldn't help but feel his heart twist nauseatingly as he thought of Kyle trapped up there by himself. He couldn't help but find himself wishing for the best for the young gypsy. Stan himself never minded the street performers and the way that they made their living on such a harsh world's penance. In fact, he admired it. He found them all to be brave and somewhat strong, no matter how frail or sickly they tended to appear.

Worst of all was his fleeting images of Kyle actually being in Cartman's grasp. Although he couldn't see the pride dying from Kyle's gaze, the thought of him dying in general was heart-wrenching to the soldier. He could just hear Cartman's relentless taunting of the boy as he tortured him to death. He had no idea of what the man would do with him, how he would go about his plans. The millions of ideas that circulated the boy's mind were enough to make him vomit slightly in his mouth, his stomach clenching in fear that he had never felt before.

He sighed, leaning back against a pillar at the front of the cathedral and staring up at the dark bell tower.

There was so much to the small gypsy that a part of him couldn't help but want to know more about. He'd seen glimpses of him before he left for the war, but had never had much contact with him outside of what he'd witnessed in the last few days.

He wanted to know more about what he'd said earlier, how he didn't want to be a gypsy. Perhaps he was a prisoner to the lifestyle he'd been raised in. It's more than possible. A gypsy code is that you stick together until there's someone chasing you. Then it's every heretic for themselves. Stan let his mind wander on this a bit, thinking of Kyle being so intertwined with his society that it took being locked away in a church to be able to escape their grasp.

He jolted slightly as the heavy door of the church creaked open. He looked over, finding Cartman himself stepping out and looking over at him.

"Marsh, come with me," he curled his index finger towards the door. Another guard stepped out, saluting Stan before the black-haired boy stepped past the man and walked in after Cartman, a sinking feeling in his gullet.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"I need for you to fetch me someone from the bell tower," he said drolly, turning around and stopping with the soldier.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Stan narrowed his blue eyes. "Cartman, you know that I'm not allowed to touch Kyle, let alone drag him down here to you."

"No, no, not the gypsy," Cartman muttered, an obvious anger in his tone. "There's a blonde-headed boy who lives up there. The heretic has been staying with him the past few days. I need for you to tell him to come down here and then watch the gypsy while you're up there, do you understand?"

Stan considered telling him off, the back of his mind screaming that this was just a way for Cartman to be able to get a hold on Kyle. But the other part of him couldn't help but be grateful to be able to see Kyle for himself and know that he was all right.

"Fine," he nodded curtly, starting to turn the steps to head up to the tower.

"Oh, and make sure the blonde wears his cloak, will you?" Cartman asked.

"Sure," he called back as he continued up the steps, his mind scattering in worried directions. He wasn't stupid. Cartman was going to try something to get Kyle out of hiding. He had no idea who this blonde kid was that Cartman was so intent on talking to, but he must hold some sort of significance if he were to be up there with Kyle. Stan narrowed his eyes slightly in thought. Was he maybe a cleric from the church? He'd never seen any blonde priests when he was here before the war. Maybe he was a new apprentice of the sort or something...

He headed up to the top of the flight and pushed the door above him open just slightly, peeking up through. He looked around, finding Kyle and the blonde sitting with each other by a crate, picking at bread and grapes and laughing with each other. Stan couldn't help but bite his lip in jealousy at the closeness of the two of them. They were practically touching legs, Kyle leaning over into him just slightly. He gritted his teeth, pushing up the door with all his might and letting it slam into the floor.

Both Kyle and the blonde jumped in fright, leaping off their seats and staring as Stan emerged from the stairwell.

"Soldier boy," Kyle spit angrily. "What do you want?"

"Calm down," Stan sighed, raising his hands in defense. "I'm not here to hurt anyone or take anyone hostage or anything." He looked over at the tall blonde who seemed intent on staying by Kyle's side. "You," he nodded.

"Kenny," Kyle corrected, narrowing his green gaze. "Not 'you'."

"I'm sorry," Stan smiled softly, trying to ease up the gypsy's infuriated stance. "Kenny," he said gently. "Cartman needs to talk to you downstairs."

Kenny recoiled slightly and Stan raised his brow. "What?" he asked, blinking. "He...he never lets me downstairs..." he looked down at Kyle who looked back up at him with a worried glance.

Stan stared confusedly. "He...um, said to wear your cloak," he stated slowly.

Kenny gulped, reaching behind him on a scaffold and grabbing his orange cloak from its bearings.

"Kenny, whatever you do, stay. Calm," Kyle enunciated, grabbing the blonde's hands. Stan felt his heart lurch as he watched them staring at each other. "Don't let him get to you, you'll be fine," he whispered.

Kenny nodded, squeezing Kyle's hands before letting go and swinging his cloak on, throwing his hood up over his head. He started heading back towards the stairs, but not before stopping and staring at Stan from under his hood. He leaned forward, keeping out of earshot of Kyle. "Hurt him and I'll hurt you," he muttered before leaning back up and slowly heading down the stairs.

Stan watched him in astonishment before looking back at Kyle, who was staring at him intently. He moved over towards the gypsy and he backed away cautiously.

"You still don't trust me?" he asked.

"I can't trust you," he glared. "After what you did to me in the streets that day? It's _your_ fault that I'm in this mess to begin with!"

"But were it not for me, you never would have met _Kenny_," he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"You're right," Kyle agreed, still holding firm away from him. "At least now I know there's someone in this godforsaken town that I can trust. Unlike you," he hissed.

Stan opened his mouth to speak before just opting for sighing and shaking his head. "It's my job, Kyle."

"Fuck you and your job, you pathetic soldier-boy!" he shouted. "Killing my people, trapping me in a fucking church...God, I hate you more than you could imagine."

"I doubt that," he smirked. "You just don't like my job description. But I think that you're all right with me as a person."

"You're not a person, you're a doll! A doll under the strings of that worthless apprentice down there!"

"A 'doll' who could take you at any moment's time should he choose," he raised his brow. "Notice my lack of doing so."

"Then why did you send Kenny out and leave me alone?" Kyle lowered his voice.

He shrugged, "Wasn't by my hand," he jerked his head towards the door. "It was Cartman's. I'm just here to make sure you don't try to run."

"Lucky me," he murmured, his eyes drifting down towards the stairwell. The gypsy couldn't help but bite his lip as his mind went back to the blonde on his way downstairs. There was no way that what Cartman was up to was of any good intentions...He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

Hopefully Kenny would just remember who his friend in this whole mess was.

* * *

As Kenny left the sanctity of his tower, he couldn't help but feel cold. When he'd left to see the festival, he felt nothing but an encompassing warmth surrounding him. He was exhilarated and free. But this...this was a death march.

Regardless of what the deacon made him promise to do, Cartman was still determined to get Kyle out of the church and into his hands. The blonde wasn't an idiot, he knew that that's exactly what Cartman was calling him out to do...

"Well, hello and welcome to the rest of your home, Kenny," the dark voice boomed around him in the empty large space. He gulped, looking up from under his hood to see Cartman staring at him with a smile. It wasn't an evil smile, it was one that any member of the church would trust. But Kenny knew better. He knew that that was never Cartman's true face.

"Come sit," he beckoned, walking to the front of the congregation hall. Kenny bit his lip, following him slowly. He looked around at the statues staring down on him, he couldn't help but feel intimidated by their piercing glares. He shook lightly before clearing his throat and hurrying up towards the large man, wanting to just get this talk over with as soon as possible.

He slowed up as he neared the first pew on which Cartman sat, his head bowed in prayer.

"What do you want?" he asked as firmly as he could manage, not able to shake the nervousness in his voice.

Cartman raised his head up slowly and his lips twisted into more of a grin. "You're well aware of what I want," he said lowly, patting the seat beside him. Kenny took a wavering breath, sitting down beside him, sure to keep a decent amount of space between them. "Let's talk about what _you_ want, Kenny," the brunette stated.

"What...what do you mean?" he narrowed his eyes at him.

Cartman leaned back in the pew, staring up at the large stained glass window in front of them. "Look at it," he gestured. Kenny followed his stare, entranced all at once by the large colorations and beautifully crafted images. "See it, Kenny? See what you've been missing for all these lonely years?" he asked with a sympathetic guise to his voice. "Look at those colors, look at the people on the glass," he said dramatically. "And that's just a taste of what there is," he whispered. "You saw the festival, you saw all the people out there, all the different shapes and colors that you've been denied for so long."

"What about it?" he broke his gaze from the window, feeling a pang with each of Cartman's words. he didn't need to state it, all he'd been able to think about was getting back into that world since he'd been thrown back into his tower.

"You want more," he grinned at him. "You want to be able to be amongst those of the colors, you want to be able to twirl in the streets and shake the hands of those who walk them alongside you. You want to be back to being just a normal boy in this town, don't you?"

"What of it?" he asked impatiently, his eyes stinging from the truth. God he wanted it...he wanted to be free so much...

"I can make it happen," he leaned towards him and whispered. "I have more authority at this point than the archdeacon over you. I can make you a free man once again, Kenny."

Kenny backed up and blinked at him. "For...what?" he narrowed his eyes.

Cartman leaned back up, clasping his hands and laughing lowly. "All I ask in return is for you to give me that gypsy. Just one little gypsy for a lifetime of freedom, Kenny. Is he really worth you spending the rest of your life in that miserable place?"

Kenny gritted his teeth. He should've known...

"I'm not giving you Kyle," he said firmly, any ounce of nervousness diminished.

"And why not?"

"Because...he doesn't...deserve what you'd do to him," Kenny replied.

"Oh?" he cocked his head and blinked at him. "And...what is making your answer so hesitant, Kenneth?" he asked innocently.

"Because you threw me off guard," he snapped.

"Hmm," he mused, smirking to himself. "No...no I think there's more to it than that." He looked over at him, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous tint. Kenny gulped. He knew to be afraid of that look. "I think that you've fallen for that little poor excuse of a beggar, haven't you?"

"What?" he practically shouted, his eyes fleeting around nervously. "N-no! He's a friend! I'm not letting you hurt my friend!"

"Oh," he chuckled. "Just a friend, hm? So tell me, why are you blushing like a young child at their first confessional, hm?"

"Cartman, I'm not giving him to you," he said through gritted teeth. "He's not yours."

"Do you consider him to be yours then?" He asked, his tone starting to lose the airy questioning and starting to gain ounces of anger with each syllable. "Tell me, Kenneth, do you plan on him just staying up there with you forever?"

"If it keeps him safe, he will," he retorted curtly.

Cartman got to his feet, pacing in front of the boy in deep thought. "Kenny," he looked at him, "You know nothing of this world. You don't know what gypsies are like. He's not going to be there to be your 'friend' nor anything more," he glared. "He's built his entire life upon deceiving, upon being nothing more than a menace to society. His only objective is to steal what people value and run off with it," he spat.

Kenny got to his feet, his own anger beginning to build. "Kyle isn't like that!" he shot back.

Cartman stood in front of him. Despite being shorter than the blonde, his fierce stance still made the boy cringe slightly in intimidation. "You've known him only a few short days, Kenneth! He's going to do nothing but deceive you! He'll lead you on, making you believe that you and he are good friends, but in the end, he'll run off and take your heart along with him!"

"No he wouldn't!" He shouted back in the priest's face. "What do you know of him? You think he's nothing more than some filthy thing but you don't know the real side of him at all! He's a person, Cartman! A person with feelings and a lot of care for others! He's not just here for himself, he's here for anyone who needs a hand!"

"And what makes you so certain of that?"

"Because he told me so," he growled. "He told me all the stories of his friends, he told me how he never eats so they can even when he's the one who gets the money. He told me how he's done nothing but work for years and years just because he can't stand to see the other gypsies suffer!"

"And you believed him?" he laughed. "Kenny, Kenny, Kenny," he shook his head. "Gypsies are nothing but petty liars. They'll say anything to make you pity them and give them some sort of comfort or food or money. Or in your case, your trust...And your _love_," he batted his eyelashes mockingly. Kenny's face went up in flames at the mention of love, his heart beating uncontrollably in his chest.

His feelings felt marred, mixed, hurt. Cartman was right, he didn't know about the outside. But Kyle was different than the stories that this glutton had told him so many times in the past. Kyle was kind, he cared about him. He held his hand and he hugged him when he started feeling sad. He listened to the blonde, he told him stories and made him laugh and smile when he hadn't gotten that from anyone for so long...

Kyle wasn't just a gypsy. He was a boy trapped in the gypsy's world.

"No," he said with a wavering breath. "I trust Kyle."

"And it will be your downfall," Cartman warned. "Know this: He will try to run. He will be captured and brought to me. You will remain in that tower the rest of your life should you refuse to bring him to me yourself."

Kenny flinched lightly at that remark, thinking of his and Kyle's plans to escape later that night. "No. I won't."

Cartman paused, staring at the blonde intently before another grin crawled up his face. "All right," he shrugged. "Go on then. Go enjoy your last few moments with that vermin. Just know that you will both die miserably by the church's hand in your own fashions."

Kenny bit his lip, daunted by the gleam in the brunette's eyes before he turned and started walking back towards his staircase.

* * *

"So," Stan started, looking at the small redhead who was still tensed against the wall. "Are you all right?"

"Wonderful," he scoffed. "You know how much I love being a confined prisoner."

"I meant are you hurt," he sighed. "Is the blonde treating you all right?"

"He's the only real friend I've made in my lifetime," he glowered. "Yes. I'm happy that he's here, otherwise I would have already lost my senses."

"Great," Stan grumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kyle demanded. "Mad that I'm not asking you to be my friend or something? Hate to tell you but I don't play kindly with the enemy."

"So I've noticed," he commented, walking up in front of the gypsy. Kyle backed up as much as he could against the wall, glaring at the soldier evilly.

"What are you trying to do, Stanley?" he asked lowly.

"Listen to me, Kyle," he said firmly, placing his hands on either side of Kyle's head. "I don't want you hurt. I'm not exactly on the side of trying to get you captured. To be honest, I hate Cartman's ideals. They're not very Catholic when it comes down to it."

"Then why do you work for him?" he sneered.

"Because one: I need a job. And two:..." he sighed. "Two, Being a soldier is all I know how to do. But you should have been able to catch on that I've never intended on actually capturing you. I've never captured any gypsy and I'm not about to start with you."

"Why not?" he asked warily.

"Because, you're smarter than the fatass gives you credit for," he rolled his eyes. "You could do a lot for this town, and you have," he shrugs. "You make a lot of people happy. I don't see the evil that he says you possess."

"That's because I'm NOT evil," he shouted. "I'm just a fucking kid for God's sake," he sighed. "All I do is tell stories and twirl around until I can't see straight. I don't see how that defines me as some evil being or whatnot."

"I agree," he nodded. "You're not evil, you're a good person. I don't want to see an innocent killed for nothing."

Kyle looked up at him hesitantly. "You're a soldier, Stanley. I...I don't think I can trust you. I believe your intentions...but I'm not going to be able to listen to you without being cautious."

"You're a gypsy, that's to be expected," he chuckled.

"No, I mean...," he trailed off and sighed. "Stanley. If I run. If I just...ran out the front door of the cathedral, would you stop me?"

Stan paused, staring at him a moment. "I...Would you expect me to?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I'm...I want to trust you. I'm sick of not trusting anyone enough to let them say something without me hiding...But you're...you," he shrugged. "I can't expect the guard leader to let Cartman's first target just slip by."

Stan and he stared at each other before Kyle yelped as Stan's hands grasped around his frail arms. He leaned his face down towards the redhead's and they blinked at each other. "I wouldn't let him touch you," he whispered before pressing their mouths together, pushing Kyle back into the wall. The gypsy screamed in surprise and flinched violently. The soldier's strong arms kept him restrained, Kyle's fighting giving way to panic as he froze in fear.

His arms were caught. He was trapped between a soldier and a wall. This could be a trap.

Stan's tongue dove into his mouth and he groaned trying to pull his head back before Stan pushed his skull back as well, keeping him still. He shut his eyes, shaking in terror as Stan's tongue roamed around his non-responsive mouth, the man's breathing heavy against his reddened face.

After what seemed like forever, Stan finally pulled away from his lips, staring down at him with deep, lustful eyes. Kyle looked back at him, shrinking down in embarrassment, in anger, in fear of more to come. They stared at each other in utter silence, Kyle wanting to get him away, Stan wanting to do nothing but repeat himself over and over again.

They heard a sniffle and both looked back towards the door, finding Kenny standing at the foot of the hole, looking at Kyle with devastated eyes. Kyle's face paled while Stan grew a triumphant smirk.

"Ken...," Kyle started, trying to move but unable to as Stan's arms kept him still. "Goddammit, let go!" he yelled at the man.

"Why?"

"Because Ken...," he looked over to find the blonde sulking up towards the bells, hopping up the makeshift rope ladder briskly before pulling it up beside him. "Kenny, please, it didn't mean anything!" Kyle called up to him. "Ken!" he tried again, biting his lip.

"Pft, geez, not like you two are together or anything," Stan rolled his eyes.

"And neither are we," Kyle hissed, taking his arms back and stepping away from him. "Get out, Stanley."

"But I-"

"I SAID GET OUT," Kyle's voice rang through the silenced bells. Stan stared at him a moment before glancing up at Kenny and sighing.

"All right, all right," he held up his hands in defeat. "Just remember what I told you," he said softly, turning towards the stairs. As he turned his back, he could hear Kyle pleading for Kenny to come down and talk to him, that it didn't mean anything and that Stan was nothing but an asshole.

He let out a sigh as he traveled down the steps. It was worth a shot.

He apparently blew it.

As he reached the foot of the stairs, he yelped as someone grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. He looked to see Token and Clyde restraining his arms.

"What are you doing?" he barked. "Release me!"

"Not so fast, Stanley," the voice he'd grown to loathe spoke up.

He looked up to find Cartman staring at him with a smirk. "You were up there and did nothing of the sort to try to apprehend that little wretch. In fact, you tried to make peace with him, to become his friend in order to escape me, did you not?"

Stan merely glared at him. Great...

"Stanley Marsh, by order of the Church and by the word of God himself, you are under arrest for going against the laws dictated to you by the Holy Sanction," he stated plainly. "Guards, please take him to the location I specified. We'll have quite a treat for him within the next few days," he grinned at him madly.

"What are you doing, Cartman?" he demanded as he started to be dragged away. "What are you going to do to Kyle?"

"Please silence the traitor," he waved dismissively. "We don't need his annoying bantering going throughout the streets." Stan shouted as a gag was tied over his mouth and his men started dragging him down and away to the prison cart in front of the church.

His eyes flickered up towards the bell tower and he couldn't help but shake as he was thrown into the cart and locked away. He felt it being towed by the horses at the forefront and gulped, closing his eyes in prayer as he felt each gallop taking him further and further away from the one he felt he needed to protect.

'_God help him...Kyle, please, stay where you are...'_

* * *

_**A/n: Oh uh spaghetti-o's :x**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring!**_


	10. Falling into Unholy Hands

_**A/N: I feel it necessary to point out we only have three chapters of this left XD**_

_**I wanted to do it short and a little rushed for a few reasons. One, I needed to practice not being so...detailed I guess. My chapters needed work :O Two, I wanted to kind of mimic the Disney style of HoND. Short and to the point :o**_

_**Some of you like it, some of you don't. Honestly, this was just a practice story, lolzers xD**_

* * *

The air between the two of them was quiet, the evening breeze floating around them as though to emphasize the empty words that were circulating each other's minds.

"Kenny..." Kyle breathed out in a sigh, looking at him as he gazed down over the ledge of the cathedral.

"If you go down this wall they won't see you," the blonde mumbled, refusing to look at him still. He hadn't been able to for hours. Every glance of that bright red hair, the slightest glimpse of those striking green eyes sent him into heartbreak. He wasn't used to this. He hadn't felt this kind of separation since he was young...His shoulders heaved in a sigh.

Kyle stood at a distance, staring at his back with a saddened expression overlying his usually proud face. He bit his lip lightly, breaking away from the sight of the boy and looking at the gleam of his bangles. He stared at his reflection, almost in awe at how hurt he himself looked. Every gypsy for themselves...he wasn't supposed to let other people's feelings get to him like this. He was supposed to just take what he could and run...right? He shook his head at himself, glancing back up at the blonde and slowly stepping towards him.

He bent down over the ledge beside him, staring intently at his face. Kenny desperately wanted to look back into his eyes, but couldn't find the means to do so.

"Kenny," Kyle started again, his warm breath rebounding off of Kenny's cheek. "I...I told you...he grabbed me. I...I didn't want him to."

"You didn't fight," he mumbled. "He's better anyway."

"He's a _soldier_, Kenny," he emphasized. "I have no interest in drones like that. And what did you expect me to do to fight?" he pled. "I...I'm half his size! I've never gotten in a real fight before with someone my own stature, let alone someone who's trained by the wars!"

Kenny sighed, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. He knew that Kyle wasn't just lying to make him feel better, but he couldn't help but have that horrible feeling of doubt lingering in the pit of his stomach. Cartman told him that he couldn't trust Kyle, that he'd just end up breaking his heart...

Seems for once the fatass was correct.

"Kenny, please, look at me?" Kyle begged.

Kenny bit the inside of his cheek, looking up at him with wounded eyes. Kyle stared back helplessly. "Please. Reconsider. Just come with me. I promise, it's not going to be like that. I'm not going to just run off and...and hurt you like that. You know that I didn't want you to see that. I didn't want it to happen, why would I want you to think that it did?"

The blonde was silent for a moment before just shaking his head. "I don't know what to think, Kyle."

"Why not?" his face fell.

"Because...," he hesitated and Kyle's body fell slightly limp.

"Because of...Cartman," he guessed. "Isn't it?"

Kenny flinched lightly at the thought. "N-no..." he shook his head. "He...he only...ugh."

"He planted the idea that I'm going to betray you," Kyle said sadly. "And you saw Stan attacking me and you believe him now."

"I didn't say that!" he snapped. Kyle recoiled back, not used to seeing Kenny angry in the slightest. Sad, yes, but never angry.

The blonde stared at him, horrified by the fact that he'd just _yelled_ at the boy. He didn't want to hurt him, he wanted to see him get out of here and be happy and free. That's the reason he felt like he couldn't go off and be with him...He'd be happier with someone like Stan. Someone who knew the world well enough and knew how to protect Kyle if he needed it from other people out there like Cartman. All he wanted was for him to be safe...

"Ken, please," Kyle took a wavering breath, putting his hand over Kenny's arm. "Please just come with me. We'll work it out. I promised you that I wouldn't leave without you and I'm determined to keep that promise."

"It's not worth it," he mumbled, feeling his skin burning under Kyle's gentle touch. "I'm not worth you being trapped her for forever. This is my home and It's going to stay that way. I just need to get used to it."

Kyle was silent for a moment before he whispered softly, "Cartman tried to bribe you. Didn't he?"

Kenny flickered his eyes at him before shifting uncomfortably. "Maybe."

Kyle took a deep breath, squeezing his arm. "Why didn't you go through with it, then? I'm not stupid, Kenny. I'm sure it was trading me for freedom. Isn't that what you want more than anything?"

"Ye-" he stopped as he looked up at the boy, falling entranced with the deep and caring gaze of his emerald eyes. "I...I'm not sure."

Kyle's mouth opened slightly in surprise before pursing his lips again and sighing. "It's something you want though. So come with me," he urged. "I...I want to stay with you, Ken," he admitted. "But...but I can't stay here. I can't...stand all these...walls and all this cluster. It's just not who I am."

"I know," he whispered, tears beading his blue eyes.

"Please," he said again, leaning in closer towards him. "Just please come with me."

"I can't," he looked at him sadly. "I can't protect you. I don't know anything about the outside. I'd just slow you down."

"No, you wouldn't," he insisted.

"Yes. I would," he said firmly. "Just go and...be safe," he bit his lip. "Maybe...maybe one day I'll be able to find you in the future."

"But...Kenny..." the gypsy started before trailing off, his voice cracking slightly. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

He shook his head. "No. Just go."

Kyle stood up, taking his hand off of Kenny's arm. The blonde felt his heart sink slightly at the removal of contact. "Ken, take this," the redhead said softly. He grabbed the blonde arm again, lifting it up and sliding two golden bangles over his wrist. Kenny looked at them before looking at him with confused eyes. "My mother gave me four before she was killed," he said softly. "She...she told me that they represented the members of our family, of the way that we struggled and fought and we still managed to stay together. You may as well be a gypsy yourself, Ken," he whispered. "You're just like I am...just not as out in the open."

"I...I can't take these," Kenny stammered, looking between he and the bracelets nervously.

"Please, use them for strength," he whispered. "One for you and one for me," he held up the two on his own wrist pointedly. "Use them to remind yourself that you're not alone and that someone out there is struggling the same way that you are. One day you'll be free of this accursed place. Hopefully you'll find me like you said...Whatever you do just be safe..." He leaned down and gently kissed Kenny's cheek. The blonde's eyes widened and he gulped, his face flushing over as Kyle pulled back, staring at him with his deep green eyes. "I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me. And now I seem to have only made things worse for you...Just know that that was never my intention, that all I wanted to do was run out of this town with you...never with Stanley," he grimaced at the name. "He's on the side of my enemy, you're my friend. I trusted you...I'm just sorry that you can't do the same for me." He stood up, looking down the side of the cathedral and taking a deep breath. He hopped up on the ledge and sat himself down.

Kenny stood up beside him and gulped. "Be careful," he whispered. "Just...stay safe," he pled.

Kyle looked at him, a bit of a smile curving in the moonlight, lighting his pale skin aglow. "I'll try," he nodded. He kissed his cheek again before taking a deep breath and starting to slide over and scale down the wall. Kenny watched after him, biting his lip as he watched him moving. He could feel his heart beating painfully with every inch the redhead moved downwards away from him.

His eyes followed him, blurred by his tears. He didn't _want _to stay here. He couldn't stand this place, he couldn't stand Cartman...God he wanted to go with Kyle. What was holding him back? Kyle made it plainly obvious that he wanted the blonde to go with him, so why couldn't he just swallow his pride and _go_?

He looked down at the bangles hanging off of his slim wrist, watching them sparkle and dance in the moonlight. He brushed his thumb over the metal and gulped lightly. Kyle said they were the same, that he wasn't alone. It was what he'd wanted for so long, to know that he wasn't in this world all on his own...

God, why was this so hard?

He watched as Kyle neared the ground and bit his lip. He wanted to be with him. Cartman was completely wrong. Kyle wouldn't hurt him, he wouldn't leave him for some stupid soldier. Kenny knew it in the deepness of his heart that he couldn't stand just letting Kyle go like this. He couldn't just wait and then walk out on his own to try to find him. Kyle would be too far gone by then...

He narrowed his eyes. Angels didn't just let people walk off on their own.

He stood up and put his foot on the ledge, ready to start climbing down as Kyle touched ground. He looked as he saw movement in his peripheral vision and his jaw dropped.

Guards.

"KYLE!" he screamed. He watched as the lone, dark figure was ambushed, trying to run off but being pulled back into the mob. The blonde could make out him struggling to get away, failing as about ten of them surrounded him and held him back.

Kenny whimpered, trying to jump up to head down to get him out of the tangle of men before he was suddenly grabbed and ripped off the ledge. He looked to find himself accompanied by three soldiers and his stomach dropped. He screamed, trying to bat off the men and make his way towards the edge once more.

"Kyle! Kyle, no!" he shouted as they pulled him back. "Let me go!" he ordered, thrashing around madly.

"Shut up," one of them demanded, tying his wrists behind his back. He kept his eyes on the ledge, trying still to run towards it as they pulled him back.

"No...," he whispered, tears pouring down his cheeks. "No, no, no," he shook his head, dropping it finally and taking a deep shuddery breath.

He could hear laughter below him on the streets and his fists clenched in anger, his teeth gritting in fury.

Cartman.

Down in front of said glutton, Kyle glared at him, shouting random obscenities and insults as he tried to break out of the guards' hold.

"Let me go you fat son of a bitch!" he screamed.

"No...no, I don't think so," he smiled, shaking his head. "Oh my little gypsy," he smirked, "just where is your cunning now?"

"What do you want from me, Priest?" he spat.

The apprentice stared at him before breaking into a wider smile, his eyes gleaming in the darkness with foul intent. He placed his finger under the boy's chin, lifting him up slightly and watching his Adam's apple bob in the lighting. "You have two options," he spoke lowly, placing his face in front of the boy's. "Either you come with me peacefully, allow me to reform you, become mine," he grinned. "Or...I make you mine by putting you to death."

Kyle lurched back, spitting at his face. "Fuck you, I would never degrade myself to being under the likes of you!"

"Degrade? Why gypsy, you would be with who's soon to be one of the most powerful men in this town. Much better than that pathetic boy sitting alone in that tower," he jerked his head back.

Kyle glared at him at the mention of the blonde. "What did you do with Kenny?" he hissed.

"Oh, are you really so concerned for him?" he feigned sympathy. "Aw. Well, I would think that there'd be good reasoning for that were it not for one keen detail about him." He grabbed his chin and roughly pulled him forward, placing their noses right by each other's. He chuckled, "It's his fault you're in this predicament."

"What?" Kyle narrowed his eyes.

"Oh he told me of your plans to escape, you see. He gave you away for his freedom."

"You...you're lying," he snarled. "Kenny told me he wouldn't do that. And if that's true, then bring him down and let me hear it from his lips! Not your lying, deceitful asshol-" he stopped as Cartman slapped him across the face. The redhead looked up at him from under his bangs, panting with a dark stare at the larger man.

He felt his wrists being bound behind him, shaking his shoulders in a vain attempt to get away before they were secured.

"Come on, Kahl," Cartman taunted, leaning down towards him again. "Repent and be mine and mine alone."

"So you can keep me in a tower like you did Ken you fat son-of-a-bitch?"

"No. Much smaller," he smirked. "But you would escape death. And one day be able to walk the streets as a normal boy. A highly regarded member of society."

"I will _never_ be yours," he glared.

Cartman frowned, leaning up and shrugging. "Very well. Enjoy your last night on this Earth, Gypsy vermin." He glanced at the two guards holding the boy. "Take him. We'll deal with him in the morning. Make sure the entire area is under watch, understand?"

"Yes, sir," the guard nodded. "Come on you," he ordered, kicking Kyle and forcing him to turn around. Kyle and Cartman locked gazes, the gypsy's fury to the priest's victorious stance.

The fat man watched the gypsy being dragged away, smiling to himself before turning back towards the cathedral. He walked down the wall towards his door and opened it, stepping into a small hallway outside of his bedroom. He sighed contentedly, heading through the hall and out towards the congregation center. He passed Mary's statue, making the sign of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost as he walked.

"We'll keep this land much more sacred," he promised her in a murmur. "Those gypsies will learn to keep their foolishness away from us."

He headed up towards the bell tower stairs, lifting his robe slightly as he walked up the great flight. He stepped up through the open door and smiled as he came across the vision of a very angry Kenny.

"Why hello there, Kenneth," he said cheerfully.

"Where's Kyle?" he snapped.

"Where? Oh, nowhere special," he grinned. "He'll just be there temporarily."

"What are you doing, Cartman?" he demanded. "Kyle didn't do anything wrong!"

"Except promote the sensationalism of sinning to the public," he scoffed. "Denying the church's ways, avoiding the authority of the guards, stealing, peddling...Need I go on?"

"All of it is by your hand!" he shouted. "They wouldn't have to beg if you would just give them the comforts that you provide to everyone else!"

"Everyone else is a good-hearted person," he said calmly. "We're here for the pure and the lost. Not for the evil."

"Then why are you here," he hissed. Cartman merely chuckled at his anger, walking in front of him a few times before smiling again, looking up at the bells hanging above their heads.

"Oh, Kenneth," he sighed happily. "You should be glad. Your home is pure again."

"This. Isn't. Home," he breathed angrily, his nostrils flaring.

"Oh, but it is," he smirked. "As per our agreement, since you were not responsible for bringing the gypsy to me, I will be making sure that you are here for the rest of your miserable life."

"You're not going to get away with this!" he yelled, his voice rebounding into the giant bell above them. "Kyle will get out, you'll see!"

Cartman snorted, walking over and staring down the blonde, a horribly devious glint in his dark brown eyes. "No," he whispered. "That little gypsy is now my property. I will do with him as I see fit until I decide that it's well-enough time to send him into the pits of Hell. You can rest knowing that it was your fault that I knew of his escaping. Let that sit on your little angelic head as you remember that the little rat belongs. To. Me," he grinned before patting the blonde's head.

He turned and began walking away from him towards the steps as Kenny was wrenched back and tied to one of the scaffolds. He watched after the man, barely paying attention to the guards securing him. Cartman didn't just want Kyle dead anymore...he wanted him for himself.

Kenny's heart sank as his knees gave way underneath him and he slide down onto the floor. He started trembling, realizing the mess that he had made. He felt the bangles on his wrist and suddenly they weighed so much more than before. He bowed his head in prayer as the guards walked split up into separate areas to watch him.

'_Kyle, I'm so sorry. Please, please...Don't lose hope. I'll find you...Just like I promised. I swear it.'_

* * *

_**A/N: Yeeeeppp. Dun dun dun.**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring :3**_


	11. Purification

_**A/N: It's been about a month since this was last updated, lolz. Since we only have two chapters left, let's just nip this goddamn thing in the butt and get on with our lives.**_

_**AS YOU MAY OR MAY NOT KNOW: This story is rated M. Cartman just captured Kyle. Know me at all? You know what's coming :D But for those of you who don't likey that sorta thing, you can just read the stuff surrounding it I guess.**_

_**But where's the fun in that?**_

_**Anywho, enjoy :D**_

* * *

His eyes fought to open themselves back up, beating away that repetitive pounding in his temples. He groaned softly to himself, trying to bring his arms around to rub at his aching eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat as he realized they were restrained behind him. He bit his lip, finally forcing his eyes back open, only finding darkness surrounding him

He furrowed his brow as memories came flashing back through his mind. Cartman. He ambushed him. He grit his teeth angrily. He got caught.

He_ never _got caught.

"Where the FUCK am I?" he wondered aloud, cursing under his breath as he shook his shoulders and wiggled his wrists around desperately, trying to find a weak spot in the coarse rope that was securing him to a pole of some kind. He thrust his arms back and collided with a large, warm form that yelled upon contact.

"What the-" the gypsy blinked, turning his head despite not being able to see his own nose in the quiet darkness. "Who's there?"

A momentary pause. "...Kyle?"

He recognized that voice. It filled him with _rage_.

"Soldier boy?" he spat, his face burning heavily despite the coolness of the area.

"Oh God, Kyle, what the hell happened?" Stan's voice picked up a panicked pitch. "You were supposed to stay in the tower! What the fuck did you do?"

"I ran," he stated bluntly. "I couldn't stay there forever. Why did you bring me here?"

"I didn't," he responded quietly. "I told you, I have no interest in capturing you. Cartman arrested me for disobeying church protacol." Kyle could hear the irritation in his voice but it did little to soothe his anger.

"Then are we in jail?" he asked, his head overflowing with confusion as his mind finally caught back up to him. What was Cartman going to do? Why was Stan here with him? What happened to Kenny? He heard him shouting when the guards attacked him, there was no way that Kenny would just stay up in the belltower and not at least_ try_ to save him.

But then again, as disappointed as Kenny had been before he'd escaped, he couldn't say for sure.

"No I...I don't think so," Kyle could feel him shifting around from the other side of the pole and heard soft rustles under his weight. "This isn't concrete underneath us," he stated. Kyle tested the surface for himself, narrowing his eyes.

"It's hay."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Well one, I can smell it, genius," he scoffed. "Two: you live on the streets and you start to be able to differentiate natural materials by feel."

"Oh," Stan stated, rather stupidly in Kyle's opinion. The redhead rolled his eyes, leaning back against the pole and looking around the dank area with his now somewhat-adjusted eyes. He could see cracks of light seeping in and tried making out shapes wherever it hit, growling in aggravation when he couldn't do much but see sticks of hay sticking every which way.

"Why are we both here?" Kyle asked. "Didn't you see where they brought us?"

"No, they blindfolded me when we got here," Stan sighed. "I have no idea where we are. What about you?"

"Those fucking drones of men knocked me out," Kyle grumbled, feeling himself sinking in shame. "I can't believe I was so stupid. No matter what Kenny said, I should have known that that fatass of a priest would just be sitting and watching to see when I was trying to run."

"I told you," Stan scoffed. "I told you that he wasn't going to stop. But no, you just had to listen to that blonde kid who probably can't even read let alone formulate an elaborate escape."

"Shove it up your horse, Soldier," Kyle hissed. "Kenny is much more reliable than you could ever hope to be in my eyes."

"What? A shut in who looks like death itself is more of a savior to you than a leader of a war?" Stan asked unbelievingly.

"Well look who's the one sitting here tied up to a gypsy," Kyle taunted. "Maybe Kenny wasn't captured. Maybe he's looking for us. Well, for me at least. He hates you."

"And I'm _heartbroken_," he drawled back sarcastically.

"Well I hate you, too. I'm sure that hurts a lot more, doesn't it?"

Another moment of silence passed between them and Kyle could feel Stan sinking back into the pole tiredly. Good.

"We need to get out of here," Kyle murmured. "Use that brute strength of yours and break the rope."

"You don't think I've tried? Why don't you use your cunning and find a way out?"

"I'm a storyteller, not a magician," he argued. "I haven't exactly fine-tuned my escape artist techniques upon being caught."

"Well why not?"

"Because this is the first time I _have_ been caught!" he snapped. "And unlike you, I'm lacking in muscle. Luckily unlike you I can at least compensate by brain power," he rolled his eyes.

"Well then USE that brain power to get us out of here!" Stan shouted back.

"_I don't think it matters what either of you do_," a voice echoed around them suddenly. They tensed, instinctively leaning back into each other against the pole. "_Even if you got out of your binds, what good would it do you when I have guards stationed around every corner of this place, hm?"_

Light suddenly broke into the area and the two boys yelped and flinched at the sudden burst on their eyes. They groaned, creaking open their eyes up towards the incoming source of light. They looked to find Cartman standing at the top of a hay loft, looking down on them with an evil smirk. Two guards moved a large board fully off the window at the top of the balcony, placing it down behind Cartman and coming up to stand beside him.

"Cartman," Stan growled. "What the fuck are you pulling?"

"Stanley," he chuckled, shaking his head, "You know...you had such...potential. You could have been such a figurehead of this town. You could have done so much for someone your age, you know that? You could have, well, been just like me," he grinned.

"Why would I WANT to be like you?" he spat. "An overcontrolling, manipulative ass who steps way out of line when he doesn't get his way?"

He shrugged, "Well, why not? In the end, you always win," he stated, moving down the steep steps of the loft towards the both of them. "I don't see how it's a problem. I mean...look at where I am now," he gestured.

"Alone in a barn with two people who you kidnapped," Kyle stated dryly. "Yeah. Making it big, aren't you?" he glared.

Cartman looked down on the gypsy in front of him and his lips curled into a sly smile. "Arrested, Kahl. Not kidnapped."

Kyle just sneered and Cartman snorted, kicking his shin a bit. Kyle flinched back and Stan leaned against him again, staring behind him over Kyle's shoulder.

"You have no right to arrest us, Cartman," Stan glowered.

"Actually, Stanley, I do," he frowned. "You forget that right under the Archdeacon, I'm the one who holds the reins. I have authoritah over this town and I intend to put it to good use."

"Good?" Kyle laughed. "What GOOD can you do?" he shouted. "All you are is evil, Preacher! Nothing but vile, despicable, wretched vomit! You have no concept of what is actually good or evil in this world because your bulbous head is shoved so far up your ass you can't tell night from day!"

Cartman glared at him before looking back towards the guards behind him. "I think that it's time for my interrogation of the gypsy. Take Stanley outside and hold him until given further instructions."

"Yes, Sir," they murmured, bowing their heads before heading over towards the two captives. Stan growled and tried grabbing Kyle's hand for support. Kyle scoffed in disgust, beating his hands back away.

"Let me help you," Stan hissed as the men came over and undid his arms from the pole roughly pulling him to his feet. "I'm all you have!" he shouted as they started dragging him away.

Kyle stared over his shoulder, watching as the soldier was dragged away, their eyes locked completely into one anothers. Kyle bit his lip, he knew that right now Stan was the only thing that could possibly separate himself and certain death. He didn't want to accept that fact. He didn't want the soldier's help...but without Kenny and without the help of his fellow gypsies, there wasn't much else that he could look to for support. He and Stan stared at each other until the doors of the barn were flung open and Kyle could see a mess of people standing outside, cries of anger, fear, and joy erupting through the crowd.

His heart sank. He was going to die. And it was going to be a show for all to see.

As the doors closed and the air echoed into silence, he slowly looked back up to Cartman, who stared down on him with a ravishing gleam in his deep brown eyes.

"What is it you value most, Gypsy?" Cartman asked, kneeling down in front of him. Kyle growled, kicking out at him before the preacher grabbed his leg and slammed it back down on the hay. The redhead groaned, jerking around as Cartman straddled over his legs, holding them down into place on the straw. "Is it your life? Or your freedom?"

Kyle glared at him darkly. "My life IS my freedom."

"Not necessarily," he chuckled darkly. He cupped under Kyle's chin, his eyes dancing as he saw the glint of fear pass through the usually strong, unshaken gaze. "Your life is spent in the shadows," he dropped his tone down to a dangerous murmur. "You hide in fear. You have never experienced life for what it truly can be because of your sinful ways."

"What do you know of life, Priest?" he spat. "You spend it chanting in corridors and doing nothing but dealing with other peoples' problems, though you clearly don't truly care about the plight of the misfortuned," he snarled.

"Hm," he muses. "You know, were it not for the fact that you are the prisoner and I hold the strings on whether you live or die...I might be more inclined to believe that."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about? You said I would be put to death immediately."

"Oh, the blow to your little fragile mind must have made you forget," he chuckled. He tightened his grip on Kyle's chin and grinned widely, sending Kyle's stomach into a nervous plummet. "Remember?" he purred, "I told you. If you agree to become mine, you agree to give your sinning self over to me entirely, and you get to walk out of here alive and well."

Cartman could feel Kyle's jaw trembling under his hand and he felt excitement rising in his stomach. The sheer horror that passed through the gypsy's gaze was his entire fantasy come true. A flicker of recognition passed through the boy's eyes before the trembling ceased and the priest couldn't help but pout at the loss.

"I...will NEVER degrade myself to that," he said firmly. "You can _never_ control me."

"Oh?" he chuckled before dropping his hand down against Kyle's throat. He gave him a moment to panic before forcefully pushing back against his throat and slamming his head into the large support beam behind him. Kyle's mouth opened in a strangled cry of pain as Cartman's fingers tightened ever so slowly around him. He leaned his face down towards the gypsy's, taking a deep inhalation of his scent and grinning to himself. "Look at you, Vermin," he muttered menancingly. "Tied up and helpless like the little rat that you are."

"N-no," Kyle struggled to get out, moving around jarringly to try to escape the madman's grip. "L-let go."

"Give yourself to me," Cartman demanded, pushing him further into the column. "Become mine, gypsy and you will escape the fate of your dear parents and brother before you."

Kyle opened his eyes in a wince, attempting a menancing glare towards the glutton. "I...I won't."

"You'd rather burn?" Cartman challenged, moving off of his legs. He watched as the redhead's spindly legs fought for stance to escape his grasp. Kyle gasped for air, trying desperately to kick out at the man. "You would rather suffer burning at the stake only to be sent down to the torrents of Hell to endure more?"

"I...I...," Kyle choked, his eyes watering. Cartman couldn't help but pass his tongue over his lips. So close to tears, so close to submission. He could_ taste_ the fear and the struggling fighting through the boy. He loosened his grip just slightly, watching smugly as Kyle fought down a desperate breath. He panted a bit, looking at the priest, his eyes burning with intense anger, his face flaming in the low light of dawn flooding the barn. "I would rather _die,_" he hissed, spitting at Cartman angrily.

Cartman glowered at him darkly. "So be it. However. Know this, I intend to have you confess one way or the other. Whether or not you choose to die is up to you."

"Confess to WHAT?" he sputtered. "I'm a gypsy, there's nothing more!"

"You've done so many horrid deeds in your short life," Cartman murmured, staring at the boy in a sort of awe. He was completely defenseless, possibly seconds from death. And yet, he was still fighting.

He grinned. He would take that from him soon enough.

He reached down with his free hand and grabbed Kyle's thigh, watching as the boy's eyes went aflame with concern and fear all at once. "You know what you are, Gypsy?" he questioned quietly, his eyes going half lidded as he slid his hand up his thigh.

"What...what are yo-" Kyle stopped as Cartman clenched his fingers around his throat once again. Cartman leaned up by his ear, chuckling evilly.

"You're nothing," he stated, tracing his fingertips up to the waistband of the boy's loose green pant. "You're nothing but a nuisance. A plague upon this world and the next." He crept his fingers down past his pants and listened with pure glee as the boy let out what little of a startled yelp that he could. "You're full of sin, full of wrong," he growled, shivering as he traced down the redhead's smooth skin. He found his target and smiled once more, tracing his finger over him tauntingly. Kyle gasped and arched up at the unwanted contact before being slammed back into place by Cartman's large palm.

The gypsy quickly brought his legs together, trying to pull them up to save himself from the touches. Cartman merely laughed, taking one of his legs up and down onto the gypsy's and sending them back onto the hay. He grabbed around Kyle's length, smirking as the boy went into convulsions, his body twitching to get away but frozen in shock. He stroked along the skin teasingly, relishing in the humilation plainly plastered against his slender face.

"You know that?" he asked, firmly stroking his cock and listening as his narrowly-escaping breaths became more sparratic, more desperate. "In God's eyes, you are nothing. In the world's eyes, you are a curse. You're a beggar and nothing more. To me, you are a problem. You are someone who must be shown his place. Most of all, do you know what you are, Kahl?" Kyle's eyes flickered into his and the overwhelming terror was enough to make Cartman let out a deep moan.

"You. Are. Mine," he hissed. He suddenly retracted his hand from Kyle's pants, grabbing his hip forcefully and tugging him downwards slightly. He let go of Kyle's throat, listening to him wheeze as he reached behind him and undid the bind holding his tied wrists to the pole.

"What...what are you doing?" Kyle finally rasped out. He felt his wrist restraint slacken and automatically lurched forward. He yelped as his shoulders screamed in pain as he stretched them out away from the pole, still connected around the damnable thing.

Cartman laughed loudly at him as he twisted and struggled to get away, fighting desperately against the expertly-tightened restraint. "What am I doing?" he repeated. He slowly untangled the rope securing Kyle, grabbing his wrists in the process. He lowered his hips down onto the gypsy's legs, taking a wrist in each hand and smirking at him as he brought the freed appendages between the both of them. Kyle groaned, trying desperately to flail his arms out of the man's grasp. The brunette leaned down towards Kyle's face and chuckled. "I'm cleansing the sinner," he hissed. "I will make the wretch feel the very pain that they've brought upon this society."

"I NEVER DID ANYTHING!" Kyle screamed furiously.

"Hmph," he huffed, roughly yanking Kyle's arms down towards the floor. Kyle's body twisted and he let out a groan, looking back into Cartman's eyes angrily.

"What sort of priest are you?" he demanded. "Aren't you all supposed to be all-forgiving or something? If you are reacting to God's will, who are YOU to take matters into your own hands?"

Cartman merely grinned, leaning down and nearly touching noses with the infuriated boy. "I am the voice of God. I am here merely to serve His purposes." He shoved Kyle down onto his stomach, watching him squirm beneath hih him and feeling that excitement of his rising.

He grabbed the both of his wrists in one palm and slowly worked his free hand down Kyle's slender build. "You weren't made for fighting, were you?" he breathed out almost to himself. "You were made to run. You can't run forever, Gypsy. Not with the eyes of God looking upon you."

"Let go!" Kyle ignored him, snarling in frustration.

Cartman's hand met the lining of his pants and he grinned madly, roughly pushing them down around his thighs. Kyle cried out and he moaned, licking his lips at the sight of the boy's pale skin. He grasped his flesh, digging his nails down into him.

"STOP THAT!" Kyle screamed. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I already told you," he scoffed. "Damn gypsies never listen, do you?" He moved off the top of Kyle and threw him over onto his side in a pile of hay. Kyle furiously struggled to gain stance to run before Cartman got overtop of him, pushing his arms down on either side of his head. The boy yelled angrily, trying to kick up at the man.

"Let me go, Preacher!" he demanded. "You have no right to do this!"

"I have every right," he said smugly. "I'm acting merely on God's will. And God demands that the sinful be punished," he growled. He grabbed the disregarded rope from beside him, starting to wrap it around the flailing gypsy's wrists once more. "Confess and you will be spared of this," he told him, though the priest knew well enough in the back of his mind that the gypsy wouldn't submit. The idea of his doing so would be more than perfect; but this plan worked just as well, if not better.

"Fuck you," Kyle spat in his face once more. Cartman merely finished securing his arms before chuckling. He wiped off the spit from his cheek and grinned, backing down Kyle's small form slowly, their eyes locked in deadly combat. He rubbed the saliva between his fingers and hummed amusedly.

"My my Gypsy. What a foul temper you seem to have. And yet you claim to be nothing more than misunderstood?"

"I've done _nothing_ wrong," he insisted.

"Hm," he smirked. "So you may seem to think. But once you are shown the pain on which you've given unto others, you may finally understand." He suddenly brought his spit-coated fingers down and thrust them inside of the gypsy. Kyle howled in pain, arching up atop the hay and landing with a soft thud, sending clouds of dirt into the air. Cartman intook a sharp breath as the boy's tightness closed around his fingers. He spread his fingers apart inside of the boy, watching him as he shook around in agonizing pain.

"STOP!" he finally screeched out. "STOP TOUCHING ME!"

"Oh my little rat," he cooed, continuing to scissor his fingers inside the heated walls. "I don't think you understand. You are mine to do with as I please. God gave me the gift to cure the sinners, and in His eyes, that is all you are. Nothing but a sinner."

Kyle's body stopped jerking around in pain enough for him to rear his foot back and kick out at the invasive man with all his might. He slammed into Cartman's shoulder and the priest merely let out a frustrated grunt. He violently pushed further into the gypsy and watched as his disposition melted down into nothing more than cries of anguish. He leaned up closer towards his face, watching with nothing short of glee as he witnessed pained tears welling up along the boy's lashes.

He almost had him. That damnable pride of his was going to be broken in no time.

His enthusiasm overwhelmed him and he hurriedly pulled his fingers out of the redhead, grabbing his pants and continuing to pull them down his slender legs.

"N-No!" Kyle screamed, his voice echoing around the barn. He tried desperately to close his legs together and deny Cartman the access he was so intensively searching for. He quickly lost his battle as Cartman managed to rip the worn fabric off around his ankles and toss them behind him. "Cartman, stop!" he pled.

The priest paused for a moment, soaking in that glorifying moment. The desperate cry of his name escaping the lips of the trapped boy was too much for his restraint to bear any longer. He needed more. He let go of Kyle's wrists for a moment, watching as the boy automatically flew forward, beating against his chest and arms furiously. Cartman merely chuckled, moving himself between the gypsy's spread legs, feeling his mouth drop slightly in his intense yearning.

The rat lay beneath him. Begging. Pleading for him to stop. He wanted the preacher to stop at any cost, he was on the brink of tears overwhelming his once completely proud gaze. Everything was perfect to the brunette. Absolutely. Perfect.

"What is it you want, Gypsy?" He asked, feeling his own skin twitching under his robes. He traced his hand along Kyle's thigh, watching it quiver angrily under his touch. "Do you want freedom? Happiness? A life all your own? I can make that all happen. Be mine and I'll save you from that disgusting society that you've chosen to live in."

"I. Chose. Nothing," he hissed. "I was BORN into it, you fat fuck! I didn't GET a choice in the matter because people like YOU automatically came after us! I just learned to survive! YOU'RE the one who's chosen the wrong path!"

"I'm _giving_ you a choice, Gypsy," he glared. "Live away from the filth and stay with me in the light. Or stay true to your dispicable code among your fellow rats and die a sinner."

"What sort of choice is that, Preacher?" he spat. "I've made my decision to live long ago. But not by your hands and not by those of some God whom you claim to be all-loving while telling me that he hates me at the same time! Learn your own stories before forcing them onto me and my people!"

Cartman's lips curled into a snarl, leaning overtop of the boy and staring deep into his green anger-ridden gaze. "You know nothing of God, heretic," he murmured, reaching down and pulling his robe up, grasping himself in his palm and shuddering at how unbearably hard he was at the sight of the helpless boy. "You know nothing of the way that he has cared for humanity while your kind has done nothing but try to squander the purity that he's worked so hard to create." He leaned his hips forward, rubbing his length right along Kyle's skin and watching as the redhead's face blanched, his eyes losing every bit of anger and dropping into fear and disbelief. "You. Know. Nothing," he finished before brutally propelling his hips forward and impaling him.

The noise Kyle produced was nothing short of speaking in tongues, his body tensing over with such intensity Cartman nearly lost himself right then and there. He groaned, his arms going to either side of Kyle's head, pushing through the hay and resting on the dirt floor. His muscles trembled as his entire focus went onto Kyle's form wrapped around his own, the way that it so perfectly melded around his own skin.

He opened his eyes to see a most glorious sight: A single tear cascading down the gypsy's fire-red cheek. The priest smiled, suddenly filled with such vigor it push him into motion. He began thrusting into the boy, watching his face intently as his mouth creaked open in pain, soft cries escaping his throat.

"How does it feel?" he managed to let out with a gutteral groan. "This pain you've put on the people of this town. Taking advantage of them, ridding them of their innocence. How does it _feel_, Kahl?"

Kyle merely whimpered, bringing his hands up and weakly pushing against Cartman's broad chest as he continued driving into him.

"Feels...h-horrible doesn't it?" the fat man panted. "Stripped, undignified, _broken_," he emphasized. "You've done this to so many people. Repent," he demanded. "Give yourself to me and be c-cleansed," he gasped as Kyle's walls tightened around him insanely.

Kyle groaned, trying to squirm away but too-far gone in the overriding pain to do much more than flinch. "S-stop," he managed to croak out, his eyes opening and staring above him towards the barn roof. Cartman watched more tears glimmering over his eyes and grinned, only further influenced by their beauty. He reangled himself and started pushing into him harder, the only sounds surrounding them being their slapping skin and the rustle of the hay beneath the boy. "Not...not y-yours," he muttered, seemingly in a complete daze.

"Stubborn vermin," Cartman muttered. "I'll give you that." He grabbed under Kyle's legs, pushing them up towards his shoulders and delving him further down into the straw beneath them. The gypsy let out a scream, his head thrown back and his hands planted against the priest's chest, trying to ward him off as best he could.

"STOP IT!" he screeched.

"You knew what you had to do to get out of this," Cartman laughed. "I gave you your ultimatum, but you chose this, Gypsy."

"N-no!" he insisted, pained tears now flowing down his cheeks. The preacher laughed, bringing a hand up and running his fingers through the liquid, his stomach curling in overridden excitement.

"Look at you," he spat, staring at his pained face, his curled up and defenseless body sprawled out beneath him. "Telling the world how you're so much better, how you're so easy to escape your fate. Look where you are now, Kahl." He could feel himself losing every ounce of reserve that he wanted so desperately to hang on to. Staring down at his prize; at the object of his obsessions, of his countless sleepless nights lying beneath him. All his. All his for the taking.

"CARTMAN LET G-GO!" Kyle screamed into the barn through his sobs, his body twisting around underneath the glutton viciously.

That did it. Cartman moaned loudly at the sound of the boy's fear and anguish echoing throughout the rafters. His fingers clenched into each other as his hips propelled against the trapped gypsy madly, lost in the mess of lust and the _need_ to hear Kyle begging for mercy. He looked down and saw Kyle wincing at him, his green eyes gleaming over with fear and pleas for release. It was enough for Cartman to let out one last long groan before his vision became completely overshadowed in blinding flashes, his view of Kyle completely obscured by his mad cravings. He could hear Kyle screeching in disgust and torment as he exploded deep inside of his captive, his heavy panting coienciding alongside the redhead's agony.

His thrusts finally came to a halt, his body refusing to let him go any further as he stayed leaning atop the gypsy, panting with beads of sweat lining his brow. He tongued over his lips, finally opening his eyes to only smile with delight at what was awaiting him. Kyle's tears were still heavily present, his eyes dancing with rage and confusion, with fear and with hate.

Delectable.

Cartman's face twisted further up into a wicked grin. "So, Gypsy," he purred, "You know now what sorts of torments await you should you not submit and become my own. Allow me to cleanse you and you will not have to suffer this trauma throughout the world beyond this one." He slowly pulled out of the boy, watching as his chest rose and fell in horror, his shaking rustling the hay beneath his fragile form.

"I..." Kyle started, looking around the barn desperately. "I...don't..."

"Yes?" he grinned, his eyes dancing with joy. He had him.

He. Had. Him.

Kyle's face suddenly fell into an angry scowl, reaching over and grabbing a handful of hay in his bound palms and throwing it up into Cartman's face. "I would rather_ die," _he echoed from earlier. "I would rather burn than have a disgusting fuck like you have his hands all over me," he hissed.

Cartman's face dropped down furiously, his eyes burning with rage. "You would rather suffer for _eternity,_" he emphasized, placing his hand on Kyle's throat violently, "than give yourself over to me and to the Lord and find yourself in the right place to prosper in this life?"

Kyle choked slightly under his grip before his snarl returned. "I would rather suffer in the next world than this one," he spat angrily.

Cartman threw him down angrily, letting out a long shout. "Be that way if that's your wish, Gypsy," he hissed, grabbing the boy's discarded pants from behind him. He watched Kyle's head lolling around on the hay, groaning in pain before starting to redress him, his lips set firmly into a scowl. He pulled up Kyle's clothes and stood, adjusting his robe before reaching down and grabbing him by the neck and hauling him to his feet. Kyle gasped, stumbling along with him as he dragged him towards the front of the barn.

He stopped him at the door and turned to glare at him, undoing the binds on his wrists and watching as his hands came up to claw at the preacher's arm. "Know this," he spat at the boy, "I gave you the option of life. I gave you a choice which no other rat like yourself could even _dream_ of getting. You're going to die by your own hands, not mine." Kyle merely dug his nails into his skin, trying to scream but unable to do so under his crushing grip.

Cartman scoffed before beating three times on the door. It slid open and Kyle looked, finding the crowd staring at him with wide eyes, their shouts becoming silented. Cartman glanced around at the mob, chuckling at Kyle's frozen state under his hand.

"The gypsy refuses to be cleansed," he shouted out towards the people. They both watched as several faces dropped d and the priest chuckled under his breath. "He will die in the way of so many others before him: Public burning of his unpure flesh," he snuck a small smirk under his calm demeanor.

Kyle's eyes searched until he found Stan's, his heart suddenly torn between his anger at the soldier and the pure desperation to get out of Cartman's strangling grip. '_Help,_' he mouthed at the man being restrained just yards away from him. Stan bit his lip angrily, thrashing to get out of the guards' hold around him.

"Cartman, stop!" Stan shouted in the midst of the quiet. "Kyle didn't do anything wrong!"

"He has lived in the way only those of sinful nature can understand," Cartman replied dryly. "He is a disgrace upon man and therefore must be removed from this Earth."

Several cheers and a handful of angry protests arose from the crowd, Kyle scanning over to find himself staring at his adoptive family. Nate, Mel, and several of his fellow gypsies stood at the forefront, completely riddled with anger and anxiety for the captive. He hated their code. He couldn't do this alone. They were just going to stand there and watch him die...He closed his eyes, a rogue tear escaping from his lashes as he sniffled.

"Ready the gypsy," Cartman suddenly ordered, throwing Kyle down onto the ground, only to be forcefully hauled back up by two guards and dragged back into the barn.

"No!" Kyle screamed out, thrashing against their hold. "I didn't do anything!"

"Quiet, Rat," Cartman snapped. "If you won't come clean our way, then you'll be ridden from the purer subjects of the Lord. I told you, you made your choice, now you must face it."

Kyle just stared at him in disbelief as he was pulled back against the support beam standing tall in the middle of the barn. He felt his hands being bound behind it once more, unable to break his gaze from the priest's mad stare. The guards finished securing him and walked out, leaving the poor boy alone in the midst of the mountains of hay surrounding him, his green eyes widened and his heart pounding away in his chest.

"Kyle!" Stan shouted angrily. "Stop this! Leave him alone, Cartman!"

The priest ignored him, smirking self-rightously. "This is the Lord's work," he stated calmly to the observers as he looked away from the redhead towards the people surrounding the area. "Take a moment and look at what the life of a sinner leads to," he gestured towards the restrained boy. "This is why we must rid ourselves of such arrogance in the face of God and cleanse this world to avoid more wretches such as this one!"

A group of people within the crowd let out a loud cheer at his words, gazing at the captive with eager eyes for his redemption.

Kyle bit his lip, closing his eyes and feeling his shoulders drop. Stan couldn't get him out. He didn't know where Kenny was, if he could help him at all. This was a mess. He was going to die. Die by Cartman's hands of all things. The fucking bastard, claiming to be so pure after all that he just put him through...He looked up out the door, over the crowd to the pink and blue sky of dawn.

"...Fuck you," he breathed out angrily.

He felt himself starting to shake as the crowd's volume grew. Cheers for his death, protests against the cruelty. He bowed his head down, biting his lip again. His fingers stroked over the bangles on his wrist, his mind flashing back to Kenny. To his parents. The only people in the world he'd been able to trust, the only people he'd been able to be himself with without fears of the consequence.

None of them were here now. None could help him.

'_Stan. Kenny. Someone, please. I don't want to die like this_,' he thought, tears beading his lids. He could smell the fire starting on the torch and his heart sank. '_Please, someone...help me._'

* * *

_**A/N: DUN DUN DUN.**_

_**Yep :D And before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, I have to say this: Frollo tried to rape Esmerelda in the original Hunchback. So the rapey wasn't my idea, Victor Hugo made me do it! **_

_**Anyway, next chapter be the last so...yup :D DRAMA AND SUSPENSE ERR'WHEREEEEEEEEE.**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring :3**_

_**Hopefully we'll finish this story and get it the fuck outta my way soon, hm? See you around chillins :3**_


	12. Ashes to Ashes

_**A/N: Long story short I moved from Indiana to Washington back to Indiana and in there got two jobs and engaged and stuff and life hasn't let me write. So yeah.**_

_**SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.**_

_**Here's yer last chapter, ya'll. Enjoy :)**_

* * *

Never in his life had Kenny McCormick been so angry at Cartman before, or _anyone _for that matter. Never had he wished for somebody's death, wished for them nothing but pain and torment. Regardless of his being raised without his parents, he was still brought up in the ways of right and wrong. Ill willed wishes weren't something that just came naturally for him, he believed that there was some aspect of good within anybody.

But as he felt the bangles overtop the rope that kept him bound to one of the pillars in his tower, he felt nothing but hate. Nothing but pure anger seething from his trapped state. He let out a furious scream, trying for God-knows what number of times to break himself free. The guards had left him long ago and he knew just why: They wanted to see Kyle's execution for themselves. Kenny had learned well enough that Kyle was a thorn in the sides of the entire fleet, there's no doubt that all of them would be less than ecstatic to watch him finally get his punishment.

Kenny's head fell forward and he sniveled miserably. This was all going so wrong. He shouldn't have let Kyle leave the tower. He should have gone down first. He should have went with him. Maybe he would have stood a chance then. Maybe they could be in the mess together. Kenny knew that both of them would rather have somebody die by their side than to die on their own. Though Kenny knew better. Kyle's entire life had been spent evading death. He was terrified of it, he knew that it wouldn't be easy on himself so he ran.

Just not fast enough anymore. Cartman learned how to take the long strides until he caught up with the gypsy and managed to step in front of him to catch him in his gluttony arms. Kenny could just see that glint in Cartman's eyes after he caught him. That gleam that just screamed that he was satisfied, a look that Kenny had never seen in those brown iris' before. It horrified him. He knew what that glance meant: he was going to do what he promised and take Kyle for his own. Kenny knew well enough that Kyle wasn't going to let that happen easily, that he would rather face certain death than remain in the fatass' grubby hands.

Nothing about this was going to end well.

He let out another howling scream, his closed eyes giving him visions of Cartman rubbing his paws all over the gypsy, murmuring horrible words to him, demanding that he repent. He could just see Kyle screaming, begging, crying. He knew Kyle's pride was strong but it could only last _so_ long. Kenny knew. Kyle was scared of the larger man. Scared in the sense of stature and power, not so much pride and intimidation. Kyle would backtalk that slime any day, but when it came to brute strength, there was no doubt that the small gypsy was outmatched.

It was this that sent Kenny's terror over the edge. It was already past the dawn. Kyle was to be dealt with on this day. The blonde could just sense the world turning over, throwing nearly everything he'd come to know out of balance.

"Kenny," a voice hissed. He turned his head quickly and came across Craig sneaking up towards him.

"Craig," he croaked. "What...what are...why aren't you with Car-"

"Because I don't believe that he's doing what he should," he said firmly. He kneeled down beside him and started to unravel his binds. "I've never thought that he's been doing anything beneficial for the church. He was raised to promote the word of God, not to make up some blasphemous horse shit about gypsies preventing him from spreading the tales."

"R-really?" Kenny blinked at him, pulling his now freed arms around and rubbing the raw skin.

"I may not be a gypsy lover but I'd prefer Kyle being a voice of this town rather than that fat bastard," he shook his head.

Kenny hopped to his feet. "Kyle. Where is Kyle," he asked grabbing a hold of Craig's shoulders and shaking him vigorously. "Craig, Cartman's going to kill him!"

"He's going to do more than that," he said gravely. He looked out the balcony of the tower and pointed eastward. "If you follow the main road, it'll take you to a dirt path that'll lead you to an old barn. It's only a few minutes away if you run. That's where they're planning to burn Kyle."

"W-what," Kenny shook, reality hitting him even harder as he heard it coming from the apprentice himself.

"Kenny, go!" Craig demanded, shoving him towards the opening in the floor. "If you want to get the gypsy out of there, you're going to lose your chance!"

Kenny stumbled a bit before his feet kicked up and he rushed, shouting a "Thanks, Craig!" before hopping down the open door.

Craig watched after him before sighing and turning to look out towards the rising day. "Be careful out there, Kenny. You don't know what that fatass is capable of." He closed his eyes and clasped his hands in prayer as he had done so many times in the midst of his training. Though now, instead of praying for salvation and seeing the view of God entering his vision, all he could see was the helpless face of the poor redhead the night that he'd been captured. Craig let out a heavy sigh, everything seeming to fall onto him at once. "You've got an angel coming for you now, Kyle," he murmured. "Hang on long enough for him to get there. He's your only chance."

Cartman had long been taught that emotional joy in his victory was a sin. Pride was heavily looked down upon by the Lord and was greeted with a special sect in Hell for that type. But as he watched the gypsy writhing on the pole he was tied to, he couldn't help but feel his face splitting into a beaming grin. Everything had gone perfectly.

He could smell the torch meant to seal the boy's fate burning away into the early morning behind him. He always waited before setting the sinner aflame. He would wait for them to suffer. He would wait for them to watch that torch smoldering, knowing that each lick of the flame only brought them closer to death before they themselves were finally caught in the swirling torrent of Hell.

As far as Cartman was concerned, it was a more so delectable pastry that no baker could ever match. It was tart and sweet along the palate. Oh so satisfying, oh so delicious.

"Gypsy!" he bellowed. He waited for Kyle's eyes to rise into his own, nearly losing all control again as he saw the complete defeat overshadowing the boy's face. His green eyes, however, remained steady and firm. He wasn't going to die a coward. He was going to go down believing what he did. Or so he thought. Cartman had seen that look among the faces of many a dying gypsy before it was stripped away at the first touch of fire upon their bare flesh. It wasn't a pleasant death, it wasn't the most happily of ways to go. But it was beautiful. Cartman smiled sickly to himself as he could envision the little gypsy's red hair caught in the gathering ember current. It would be gorgeous.

"Gypsy, I am asking you as a servant of God Himself," he began. "Give yourself, your life to me. Become my understudy."

"You mean your fucktoy?" Kyle hissed, venom spitting out of his furious mouth. "I am nobody's pet, Preacher and I am not about to become one through the means of you as my master!"

Cartman firmly set his lips, glancing around as people began talking amongst one another with Kyle's outburst.

"Vile gypsy I would not touch you other than to wring your neck in the name of God!" he angrily retorted. He could not have word of what he did getting out amongst the town. It could mean terrible things for the church, but worst of all, horrible things for him.

"You liar!" he screamed back. "You rape me and you have the nerve to yell that you would do otherwise?"

"What...no...," Stan blinked, looking over at the preacher, his shocked gaze slowly melting into rage. "You son of a bitch!" he yelled at the fat man.

"Hold your tongue, Marsh," Cartman spat, looking back towards the gypsy carefully. "Do you truly believe that false accusations will save you from your cleansing?" he seethed. "Do you think that you're going to be freed from Satan's wrath for such a charge?"

"I may be going to Hell for being who I am by my birth," Kyle snarled. "I may be put through torture merely for being alive and keeping myself as such as long as I could manage. However, YOU, Preacher, are going to burn yourself for lying as you are! You're no man of God! You're nothing more than a deceitful rapist! There's a special place in Hell for those like you. God doesn't look kindly upon false prophets!"

The audience stood in shock, unsure of what to believe. Stan, however, knew exactly what to think, starting to furiously wriggle in his place, only partially being held by Token and Clyde, who were staring at Cartman in confusion.

"You don't think he..." Clyde narrowed his eyes at the preacher slightly.

"No. No he wouldn't have. The gypsy is tainted. And he's a preacher he couldn't..." Token faltered, cocking his brow slightly.

"Oh please," Stan rolled his eyes. "You know just how obsessed Cartman is with Kyle. You truly believe that he wouldn't do something so vile?"

Token opened his mouth to tell him to shut up before sealing his lips once again as his mind wrapped around such a thought. As against his code as it was to doubt the word of a member of the church, he couldn't help that lingering doubt crawling around the back of his mind.

Cartman's eyes darted around in minor worry, hearing the echo of doubt rip through the crowd at an alarming pace. He knew that it was now or never to make them forget what the rat had proclaimed.

"One more chance!" he shouted at the barn.

"Up yours, you sorry sack of shit!" Kyle spat, fury and hatred replacing any hint of fear once held in his gaze. He knew that anything he could do would result in slavery in one way or another; whether by Satan's hand or Cartman's. At least he was going down leaving that heavy shadow hanging over the bulbous preacher's head; at least he went down fighting, just as he had his entire life.

"Fine, you wretched heretic!" Cartman bellowed, grabbing the torch from a soldier's hand and holding it high above his head. "With this flame, let your soul be repented, let this be a lesson to you and all those who follow your vile ways that you are an object of blasphemy; the very picture of sin itself!" Screams erupted and gasps waved through the crowd as he flung the torch onto the hay inside the barn not ten feet away from Kyle. The gypsy's eyes widened as he watched it easily creeping, leaving a small trail of smoke as it began to catch wind.

Stan screamed Kyle's name helplessly, fighting against the hold on him in panic and despair. Gypsies stepped forward, wanting to run in to save the boy they'd raised, only to back down at the points of swords and heavy glares, resorting to yelling angrily, crying out bible verses speaking against the killing of an innocent.

Cartman ignored all else, his eyes locked on Kyle and watching the slow, dripping form of his face. Watching him as he filled with realization, with anger, and that oh-so glorious fear. His chubby face slowly spread into a maniacal grin, tonguing over his lips slowly before muttering to himself, "_See you in Hell, Kahl_."

Kenny's feet blistered from the unfamiliar territory that was the rocky road laid before him. Weeds stuck to the bottom of his pants leg, tangling around his ankle and pricking at his sensitive, pale skin. But he didn't feel anything but adrenaline, nothing but the sheerest panic as he thought of the scene that could very easily be laid out before him: Kyle, dead in the arms of Cartman, a complete slave to his whim in death when once so ferocious in his life.

He shook his head, blonde hair flinging into his eyes and blurring his vision with his worrisome tears. No. No Kyle was a fighter, Kyle was stronger than the fatass preacher gave him credit for. He was a survivor, after all. There was no way that he could be brought down so easily.

These thoughts did nothing to calm his racing heart as his tender feet beat along the dirt path.

"_If I truly were an angel I could just fly there!" _he thought spitefully, a torrent of hatred for Cartman starting anew in the pit of his belly. A breach in the blue sky of dawn caught his eye and his heart fell: Smoke. Murky, billowing smoke plundering the graces of the heavens.

"_Kyle,_" he whispered before his body threw itself into overdrive, his legs moving faster than his mind could keep up with as he raced uphill. His skin was on fire, sweat drenching his clothes and hair as his muscles became nearly uncontrollable from the exertion.

He reached the top of the hill and looked down for a brief moment, coming across a horrifying sight: a barn in the midst of flames, a crowd of people thrashing each other in ways he'd never seen before. His eyes quickly assed the mob for familiar faces, or more precisely, hair. When no bright red tendrils caught his attention, it fell to an obvious, large form in the crowd. The only one of them staying still, staring in awe at the burning building.

His teeth gritted, lips curling in fury as his eyes lost all sight of anything else, honing in on that one figure. His body kicked up again and sent him flying down the hill, running faster than he'd ever thought possible. Red circled around Cartman's form as he drew nearer, everything else merely a distraction from what he wanted: revenge.

He heard screams of his appearance, seeing nothing but Cartman turning in shock as he leaped at him, grabbing his neck and taking him down onto the ground with a sickening thud. Cartman's hands reached up, grasping at Kenny's hair and furiously trying to push the raging blonde away from him.

"GUARDS!" Cartman screamed. Kenny turned only for a second to see two guards heading his way, a lump of anger in his throat, no thoughts of consequences, only revenge.

Stan watched in awe for a moment at Kenny's timely appearance before feeling Token and Clyde's grip loosening on him. He pulled his arm out and grabbed Token's sword from it's sheath, a sharp hissing sound ensuing.

Token and Clyde backed up as Stan held it at them threateningly, "Touch me and I'll decapitate the both of you traitors, you understand?" he snapped. He looked at the crowd angrily, "Don't just stand there, take back your rights! They have no right to hold you prisoner or kill you! Don't let another innocent fall at the feet of their ideals of God!" He shouted, holding the sword in the air.

A moment of thought passed through the crowd before a simultaneous snap threw them forward towards the enclave of guards at the threshold. Swords were grabbed, ripped away from the men only for them to find themselves on the ground of angry citizens, beating and screaming as never heard before.

Stan tore his attention back towards Kenny and Cartman, who were still fighting on the ground, the guards whom were coming to the rescue being pummeled by the people. He let out a vicious battle cry, leaping towards the two of them and grabbing Cartman up under his arms, kicking Kenny away and rolling the fatass onto his stomach and holding him down.

"Kenny, the barn!" he shouted. "Kyle's right in the front!"

Kenny snapped his head towards the inferno behind him, without a second's doubt leaping through the wall of flames that barricaded the door. The heavy, arid smoke invaded his nose, clouding up his throat and making tears roll down his cheeks. His vision crossed as he fumbled around, his feet trailing over hot flames through the hay. Every step sent a wave of embers into his face, scorching his cheeks and searing his hair. He growled, making his way through towards the center of the barn, his clouded vision catching glimpse of something else in the flames.

"Kyle?" he rasped out, hurrying towards it with no regard to the pain hissing throughout his body. He made his way towards it, his eyes failing to make out any features. His fingers trailed over hurriedly, feeling the soft feeling of flesh underneath his tips. He found a face, feeling a spiral of hair over the forehead. "Kyle!" he shouted. "Kyle, can you hear me?"

It was silent sans the roar of the crackling flames. He growled, feeling down the boy's arms to his back where his wrists were still bound. His fingers fumbled around the rope, feeling a scorched edge and tearing at it hurriedly. A soft snap was heard and the form fell forward into him. He grabbed him, hoisting him up on his back. "Don't worry, Kyle," he said, trying to gather himself to find his way back from whence he came. "I've got you now, and I won't let you go," he promised.

"Off of me, Soldier!" Cartman screamed. Stan growled and tightened his grip around the menace.

"You can't give me orders anymore, you fuck," he seared. "Not me, not Kyle, not Kenny, not anyone."

"I am the word of God!" Cartman raved, thrashing around like a child. "I give people hopes and dreams. You do nothing but create your own fantasy worlds where you and the gypsy go riding off in the sunset together in your godless ways!"

Stan hit the side of his head sharply, eyes boring into the hair of the man. "I have a god," he hissed, kicking off a guard that'd fallen at his feet. "He's a fair God. One who lets _all _of His children live their lives, so long as they're happy and good in His realm. And he's a God who doesn't like being spoken for," he jerked him roughly.

"You will burn with the gypsy and that little blonde traitor!" he howled.

"According to you, he's an angel," Stan said lowly. "And if I'm correct, angels are here to spread the word of God. And _that _angel told you not to do anything to Kyle." Stan paused as he felt Cartman tensing in anger, leaning in towards his ear to whisper quietly, "'_Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word_.'"

A crashing sound erupted between the two of them and they looked up, watching as a figure came leaping through the barn onto the ground in front of them. Cartman's face turned horrifically sour, his eyes set on the arms of the figure which held a boy, curled up with his face against the chest of his savior. Kenny's eyes, bloodshot and tear-filled looked up into Cartman's; smoke emitting off of his body like spirits themselves; untamed and free.

Stan looked between the two of them before shoving Cartman towards the barn with a heavy grunt, both of them watching as the preacher stumbled and fell onto a pile of flames, screaming in agony and trying to scramble up. His hands brushed off burning pieces of hay as he fought his way towards the door. Stan quickly leapt forward towards the billowing heat, grabbing the handle of the door still standing wide open and pushing it closed. He and Kenny grabbed the wooden bar to lock it and shoved it into place, hearing the angry screams of Cartman escaping beyond the pieces of smoldering wood. They backed up from it, holding Kyle with one another as the crowd behind them slowly became quiet as they listened to the blood-curdling screams from the other side of the door.

Stan looked up as he heard a creak and his heart jumped. "Everyone back!" He screamed, waving the mob away. "It's gonna fall!"

The citizens with Kenny and Stan ran up towards a field a good distance from the barn, hearing it giving under its weight and crashing to the ground, sending an array of flames up towards the sky in a dance of light and power.

Kenny gulped as they stared in awe, holding Kyle closely to himself. "Is...is that what Hell's like?" he asked blankly.

Stan took a shuddery breath, watching the bodies of his fellow guards hit by burning debris and burning to death. "For Cartman and his God, it must be," he responded.

They both looked down at Kyle as Kenny knelt on the ground, holding him up in his arms. The crowd gathered around them, Nate coming up and kneeling down beside him.

He sighed, running his fingers through the red hair, singed and unruly. "I always knew he'd be the one to kill that man," he shook his head. "He always said he would...I just didn't know it'd happen like this," he laughed humorlessly.

"Is...is he alive?" Stan asked solemnly.

"...Barely," Kenny breathed, tears welling in his eyes. He tilted Kyle's head up towards his own, looking at the burn marks seared into his body. His breath was light and shallow, nothing but a husk of life.

"What...what can we do?" Nate asked as Stan fell to his knees beside him.

"I-I don't know," Kenny shook his head, brushing curls back lightly. "I don't think a doctor can help him at this point."

"Dammit!" Stan shouted, beating his fist into the ground. "Why the fuck did Cartman do this?"

Kenny looked up at him gravely. "You're only mad because it was Kyle involved. If it was any other gypsy you wouldn't have blinked an eye."

Stan looked at him and paled. "I-I...That's not true!" he argued.

"He's right, you know," Nate said quietly. He looked at Stan with gentle eyes. "You went to war against heretics. We all know that you killed gypsies in the name of the church. We're only just so lucky that Kyle showed you just how human we are."

Stan opened his mouth to retort, falling silent in the midst of staring eyes. He gulped, looking at Kyle with glassy eyes. "I'm like him, you know," he said softly. "I was only doing what I was raise and trained to do. If I'd known better...if the church hadn't of told me that they were all-"

"No one's blaming you, Stan," Kenny interrupted, sighing. "No one can. All of us have something to do with this," he looked at Nate and the gypsies behind him, the rest of the townspeople following. Then down at his own hands. "We all did this to him," he whispered, a tear rolling off his nose and down onto Kyle's face.

"Kenny..." Stan said, motioning towards Kyle, who's nose scrunched lightly, eyes opening slightly.

"Kyle!" Kenny exclaimed excitedly.

Green eyes locked into his tiredly, a small smile creeping along a scarred face. "Kenny..." he whispered, slumping exhaustedly in his grip.

"What, what?" he exclaimed. "I'm here, Kyle, stay with me!"

"Angel...mine...," he smiled before his eyes closed again, falling limp in Kenny's grasp.

"K-Kyle?" Kenny said, panicking at the feeling in his heart. "Kyle wake up!"

"Oh no..." Stan fell back, watching as Kenny shook the boy in his arms, tears falling down both their faces.

"Kyle don't leave me now!" Kenny shouted. "Please!"

A hand fell on his shoulder, ceasing his shaking. He looked up to see Nate looking at him with welling eyes. "Don't," he shook his head. "Kyle gave you his final word. You should...rejoice in that," he forced a smile in his grieving. "He was a special boy, everything he said had meaning...He apparently found you to be his angel. That's something precious, Kenny."

"No it's not!" Kenny shouted angrily. "I've always been this stupid so-called angel, and now my only real friend reinforces that idea and I'm supposed to be _happy _about it?"

"You are his angel, though," Nate insisted, having Kenny lie Kyle's body on the ground. He grasped his arm gently. "These bangles," he pointed to the burned gold around his wrists. "Kyle wouldn't let _anybody _touch these, let alone wear them..." he reached down, grabbing Kyle's arm, hesitating for only a moment before sliding off the remaining two bracelets and handing them to Kenny.

"What are you-"

"Take these. Take these to remember Kyle. And that horrid priest. Remember that were it not for his trusting in you, he never would have made this kind of impact on the people of this city," he smiled. "You watched over Kyle in his time of need. Now you can rest assured that he'll do the same for you over your lifetime," he got onto his feet, looking back at the band of gypsies behind him. "I think these boys need a private session with Kyle, yes? We'll come back for him soon." He began leading the gypsies, followed blankly by the remaining people back towards town.

Kenny and Stan looked at each other before staring down at the boy lying beneath them and heaving heavy sighs. Kenny slid the bangles onto his arm, watching the gold glisten dully in the dawn's light. He looked to watch the smoldering barn for a few moments, feeling a breeze of cool air pass over his face as he looked beyond that, out towards the horizon in the distance.

"What's wrong?"

"I've never seen this little before," Kenny whispered. "From my tower, I could see everything...now...now I feel like I'm..."

"Trapped?"

"Alone," he corrected quietly.

Stan was silent for a moment before getting to his feet, holding his hand out to him. "You're not."

Kenny looked up at him in astonishment for a moment before taking his help and getting to his feet. "Why would you-"

"Because Kyle was right. You're worth more than what I thought. And...you did for him what I couldn't. You helped both of us get somewhere where we needed to be. Him in salvation at last, and myself finally at mercy's feet," he smirked crookedly. "Kyle wouldn't want us grieving. He'd want us to keep on spreading his word. He's going to be watching over us, ya know. He'd want to see that we're doing the right thing."

Kenny slowly broke into a smile, both of them looking down at Kyle's content form and taking deep breaths. They looked back at each other and a twinkle passed through Kenny's eyes. "All for us, an angel in our shadows."

* * *

_**A/N: So originally I was going to have Kenny bring Kyle back to life and make it all sappy-Disney stuff but then I was like NAH LET'S KILL SOMEONE ELSE BECAUSE IT'S FUN.**_

_**And because I wanted the personification of the angel to pass from Ken to Kyle. Because the title. Get it? Angels. Plural. Cuz I can idek I'm rambling.**_

_**Thanks for R&Ring guys and sorry it took so long for such a short story! **_


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